


Proof of Existence

by silver_chipmunk



Category: Danger UXB, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 11:28:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6077637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_chipmunk/pseuds/silver_chipmunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when two men from war torn 1944 find themselves on the Starship Enterprise?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

London, spring of 1944

 

Captain Brian Ash bent stiffly over his latest unexploded bomb. "Looks straightforward enough" he said over his shoulder to his section sergeant, pushing himself stiffly to his feet. Sergeant James considered giving his captain a hand up, but decided against it. It would be a presumption on his part, unless the captain asked for help, and bad for moral, both the moral of the section, if they thought their commanding officer was still unfit after his near-fatal encounter with a landmine, and even more importantly, bad for the captain's moral, as he struggled to regain his confidence. Ash had fought hard to come back to 97 Company, after breaking through an initial bout of depression. Sergeant James gave himself some of the credit for the captain's escape and he didn't want to risk making things any harder for his still fragile officer. After testing his nerve, Major Ivor Rodgers, the company commander, had somehow managed to pull strings, preventing Ash's reassignment to a desk job in Somerset, though not his promotion from lieutenant. However, if the captain's nerve didn't hold up, the transfer could always be reinstated. James didn't want to lose what had gone from being a successful professional relationship to as close to personal friendship as the two men could come given the restraints of class and rank.

He did have to help Ash get his coveralls on over his uniform, but only a little, mostly needing to hold Ash's cane and give him a shoulder to lean on while he put on the trousers.

Ash stared at the bomb. "Same size as the one that killed Kenneth Machen", he mused out loud.

James didn't like where this was headed, but all he dared say was "Aye, sir."

"I wonder what he had time to know before…"

This was exactly what Sergeant James didn't want Ash to be thinking about. "It's the ones that you live through that you feel, sir. We both know that." he added ruefully, touching his own arm where the butterfly bomb explosion had dislocated it. "Mr. Machen wouldn't have had time to know anything more than maybe a brief flash of light."

"I suppose your right as usual, Sergeant." Ash sighed. "Get me the clockstopper, and then get back to the safety point."

"Aye sir" James said. He turned towards the safety point where the rest of the section waited behind sandbags.

There was a sudden, brief flash of light.

* * *

"Sir! Captain Ash! Sir!" It was Sergeant James' familiar Scots brogue, cutting through Ash's disorientation.

 

"What happened? Did it go off? Are we alive?" Ash shook himself, and struggled to sit up.

"Sir, I don't know. But wherever we are - it's not where we were!"

"What?" Ash finally got his body under control and raised halfway up. "What the hell?"

They were certainly not in London. Ash found he was lying on what seemed to be hard packed grey dusty earth. Around the two men, in all directions, as far as the eye could see was nothing but more of the same, occasionally studded by rocky outcroppings. A small brook ran near them, and the only sound was it's silvery babbling. There were no plants, or in fact any living things at all besides themselves. Overhead the sky was a deep cloudless cerulean blue, and the sun shone brightly, but the air was cool and a light breeze blew.

Ash tried to struggle to his feet, and this time the sergeant forgot protocol and helped pull him up. His cane was lying nearby, and James scooped it up and handed it to him. Wordlessly the two men surveyed their surroundings.

James broke the silence first. "Do you think we're dead, sir?" It was, after all, a reasonable assumption. No one should have been able to survive being next to a bomb that size if it exploded.

Ash slowly shook his head. "I don't think so. This" he indicated his crippled knee, "Hurts to much for the one place. And it doesn't match any description I've ever heard of the other."

The sergeant managed a small laugh. "That's true sir. But then where are we? And how did we get here?"

Ash shook his head again. "It's like something out of Amazing Stories. Or - have you ever read Edger Rice Burroughs?"

"Didn't he write Tarzan, sir? No, I haven't."

"Well, yes. But he also wrote the "John Carter on Mars" books. Wild adventures on another world. In one of them he gets to Mars simply by standing in a field and wishing, and he's transported somehow. Chap I knew in school read them."

The sergeant gave what almost sounded like a chuckle. "So do you think we're on Mars, sir?"

Ash shook his head. "I don't know. But I do know one thing."

"What's that, sir?"

"We can't stay here." Ash gestured around. "There's nothing. No food, no shelter. We'd be dead in days."

The sergeant nodded. "Aye. Then where do you want to go, sir?"

Ash thought a moment. "Follow the stream downriver. We may come to something. And at least we'll have water. And there, where it curves" Ash indicated with a wave. "It looks like there's a rise. Maybe we can climb and see if there's any signs of life anywhere."

"We'd better take some inventory of what we have, sir. Just so we know."

"Good thought, Sergeant. Let's see…"

There wasn't much. The sergeant had been holding Ash's trench-coat and gloves, and still had them. Ash had his cane, and the canvas bag with the defusing apparatus, the crabtree discharger, a reel of string, and the rest of it. They both had their identity papers, and orders. Aside from that…

Ash pulled off the jacket of his coverall and began going through his uniform pockets. A handkerchief. Some coins. His cigarette case, half filled. He stood for a moment staring at the small picture of Susan Mount, his fiancée, that he always carried on duty, then wordlessly shoved it away again.

"In my trousers pockets I've got matches" he said, unwilling to go to the effort of removing the coverall trousers.

The sergeant's search turned up much the same. No cigarettes, because he didn't smoke, but a pack of matches. A comb, and a movie ticket stub, which James regarded with an almost imperceptible smile. Ash wondered if the ticket was a memento of a date with the WAF supply sergeant that he suspected James was quietly seeing.

"And last, sir." James finally said, reaching into the outer pocket of his uniform jacket, "This." With a look of quiet triumph he pulled out a chocolate bar. "It's not much, sir, but it's the only food we've got."

"Well done, Sergeant." Ash said. He gave one last look around. "I suppose we'd better get moving. It's cold, and I have the coveralls. You'd best wear my coat."

James looked troubled. "I don't like to presume, sir."

"Nonsense, Sergeant. It's easier to wear than carry, and I certainly don't want to wear it over the coveralls. And it will fit you better than my coveralls would." It always seemed odd to Ash that despite the sergeants commanding presence he was actually several inches shorter than Ash himself.

"Aye sir. " the sergeant acquiesced and pulled on the trench coat. "Away, then." Ash shouldered the canvass bag, and they started out, following the brook.

Even though the hard packed dirt was good for walking, Ash's crippled leg made the going very slow. He could feel James keeping an eye on him and matching his pace. Several times the sergeant requested a break, expressing a desire for rest that Ash was sure he didn't need, simply to allow his captain to save face. But even with frequent rests, Ash's leg soon felt like it was on fire. He bitterly regretted that he didn't have the bottle of pills the doctors gave him for the pain. They were back at his billet. It was to dangerous to attempt a defusing with anything less than a clear head, and he left them in his bedroom so he would never be tempted to take one when he was on duty.

They saw nothing but what they had already seen, the pale hard packed dirt, rocks and gravel. Even in the stream there was no sign of anything alive, not even plants or algae. When they drank the water it was as pure and tasteless as though it had been distilled.

The sun slowly sank towards the horizon. By the time they reached the point where the land rose, it was twilight. Seen up close, the rise was much higher than it had seemed, and steeper, an actual hill of broken and tumbled rocks.

"We'd better camp here for the night" Ash said. "I don't think we should try this in the dark, it's to dangerous." He lowered himself stiffly to the ground, leaning with his back against a rock. The sergeant carefully sat next to him.

"Time for dinner then, sir" he said cheerfully, and pulling out the chocolate bar, broke it in half. "No point in trying to save any for tomorrow, there's little enough as it is."

"Thank you Sergeant". Silently they ate. It did little to assuage the appetite their hike had worked up, but neither commented on their hunger. The sky grew darker.

Ash pulled out his cigarettes. He had gone as sparingly with them as possible, even breaking them in half to make his supply last longer. "If I run out of these, Sergeant, I apologize in advance. People seem to get rather cranky when they don't have them."

"Aye sir" the sergeant acknowledged. He stretched out at full length with his hands behind his head. Suddenly he stiffened, and drew in his breath with a hiss.

"Sir! The stars! Look!"

Ash looked up. "Good Lord!"

It wasn't the sky they were familiar with. It was a blaze of glory, not the familiar constellations, but a band of light like the Milky Way dozens of times over.

They stared wordlessly for a few moments.. Then Ash pulled himself together. "Well, at least now we know. There's no place on Earth where the stars look like that."

The sergeant drew in his breath. "Not even the southern stars, sir?" he asked without much hope.

"I've seen the southern stars, Sergeant. They don't look like this. I don't think they'd look like this on Mars, either. Wherever we are, we're a very long way from home."

James puffed out his breath and made a visible effort to pull himself together. "Well, we knew that already, sir. I guess this doesn't make that much of a difference."

"Your right. I kept trying to convince myself that somehow we were only in Australia, or the African desert, or somewhere like that, but I didn't really believe it. It's to sterile. Even the Sahara should have more life than this." He ran his hands through his hair. "Well, we still need to find food and shelter. And someone who can tell us how we got here."

"And how we can get back. Sir, I could just hop it up the hill a ways and look around in the dark for lights."

"No, I don't think it's safe to separate. We don't have the faintest idea what could be out there. Just because we haven't seen anything doesn't mean there's nothing here. There might be things that only come out at night."

"Things that go bump in the night… aye." The sergeant smiled crookedly. "You're right sir, but still… lights in the distance might be our best bet for spotting anything there is to see out there."

"We'll climb up tomorrow, together, Sergeant." Ash's tone picked up some bitterness. "Let's not pretend it's not going to take me a very long time to make it up. By the time we reach the top, if we don't see anything by daylight, we can camp up there and look around again after dark."

"Aye sir."

"Now in the mean time, got some sleep."

"You should too, then, sir."

"No, I'll keep watch. I'll wake you in three hours and we'll switch off."

"Aye, sir, your right about watches. But then I'll take the first one."

"No Sergeant. You'll sleep first. I need you rested tomorrow."

"Sir, if any of the lads in the section were as fagged out as you are, you'd say I was remiss in my duty if I didn't tell them to rest."

Ash sighed in exasperation. "You're like a mother hen with a single chick, Sergeant. But I'm taking the first watch. Go to sleep, Sergeant, and that's an order."

"Aye sir" the sergeant said in a chastened voice. There was a pause, and then even more quietly, almost inaudibly "Mayhap I'm not the only mother hen here."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that Sergeant. Go to sleep."

Ash sat stiffly watching the strange stars overhead. There was no sound except the constant soft wind, the brook running around the foot of the hill, and the sergeants soft breathing. Ash knew he was exhausted and should have slept first, but he also knew his leg hurt enough that he probably wouldn't be able to. At least this way he insured that one of them would have had some rest the following day.

Time crawled. What, he wondered, was going on back home? If a bomb as big as the one he had been defusing exploded, there wasn't enough left of anyone nearby to bury. If the bomb had exploded, then he and James would simply be listed as killed in action despite the lack of bodies. Ash knew Major Rodgers would blame himself for letting Ash come back to the company. Bad enough, Ivor would think, that Ash had gotten himself killed, but to take as experienced a sergeant as James with him made a double blow. Ivor would be devastated. Ash cursed whoever or whatever power had snatched them away to this strange place and left that legacy behind. There had to be some way to set things right, to get back to home, to Susan, to the men, and to tell Ivor that it wasn't his fault, that he hadn't even touched the bomb before whatever happened, happened.

Eventually the three hours were up. He woke the sergeant, and stretched himself out without much expectation of rest. It was with some surprise then that he found himself being woken three hours later, after a solid and seemingly dreamless sleep. It was still dark, with no sign of dawn, so he sent James back for another three hours while he watched, and after that, finding that dawn was still some time away, managed to get in another hour himself.

But eventually the night ended. The morning showed nothing new. The day was warmer than the previous one, it would almost have been hot if not for the persistent wind. The two men cleaned themselves as best they could, using water from the brook, and James' comb.

Then they surveyed the climb ahead of them. It was intimidating. There was no clear path and their way would have to be picked through outcroppings of crumbled stone and up steep slopes that offered no hand or footholds.

"Sir" James said stiffly. "Permission to speak freely?"

"Go ahead, Sergeant." Ash agreed, worried. Sergeant James was rarely, if ever, so formal.

"Sir, I agree with you that we need to climb this, to see around. And I agree that we need to stay together. But sir." James stared off into the distance as he spoke, as though he were trying to avoid looking his captain in the eye. "You barely made it here yesterday, and that was a walk in the park compared to what this is going to be. You're going to have to let me help you, sir. Maybe even" and now it seemed he was forcing the words unwillingly "Maybe even let me carry you part of the way. Sir." He continued staring off into the distance.

It hit Ash like a punch in his gut. "I… yes, Sergeant James, you're quite right." He swallowed. "Permission granted for anything you need to do. Including carrying me. If…" he looked dubiously at the shorter man. "If you can."

"Oh aye, sir, if I need to. For a short ways at least." For a moment both men thought of the only time the sergeant had carried Ash, when he pulled him from the water after the mine explosion, and helped load him in the ambulance. He had been decorated for his effort to save Ash.

Ash pulled his thoughts back to the present. "I've just thought of another problem too, Sergeant. It's warmer today than before. We've got no way to carry water with us. Once we've started up this and left the brook behind, we're going to be getting thirsty."

James frowned. "Aye. Hadn't thought of that." He looked thoughtful. "Maybe we could soak something and bring it along wet. Sucking on cloth is a nasty thought, but better than going thirsty by a long ways."

"Good thinking." Ash said in relief. They ended up soaking the jacket of Ash's coveralls and wrapping it in his trench coat to keep it from drying out. They managed to rig a sling from twine, and the sergeant carried it on his back.

The climb was nightmarish to Ash. They took frequent rests, but even so he felt on the verge of collapse. It seemed as though for most of the climb he was leaning on James' shoulder. Several times the sergeant caught him as he stumbled and fell, and there were times that James had to lift him over obstructions he couldn't scramble up.

It was about halfway through the afternoon when they finally reached the summit. The sergeant had Ash's arm over his shoulders, and his own arm around Ash's waist, and he gently lead him to a spot where he could get him seated on a boulder, then sank to the ground next to him. By that time they were both gasping wordlessly, drenched in sweat. The sergeant untied the bundle of the jacket, and handed it to Ash, who sucked as much water out as he could. It wasn't satisfying, but at least it moistened his parched mouth. He handed it back to James, who followed suit.

After a few moments rest, they looked around. The downward slope ahead of them was much gentler than the one they had just climbed, and Ash felt a stab of anger at himself that he hadn't thought to circle the base of the hill to see if there was an easier approach. He tried to rise from his seat on the boulder, but his leg collapsed under him and he fell back down.

"Easy sir." James said. "You rest here a bit and I'll look around, like." He stood and scanned the horizon. Ash tried again to rise. This time he succeeded, and managed to stand next to James.

There was nothing to see. Just as seen from ground level, the dusty hard plain spread out to the horizon unbroken by anything other than the brook, with no signs of life.

The two men exchanged bleak glances. The sergeant swallowed hard. "Well sir, we'll do like you said, camp here tonight, and see if we can see lights off in the distance after dark."

Ash nodded wordlessly. He stared into the distance, trying to blank out his mind, trying not to think, not to let despair wash over him, not to think of the slow death by starvation and exposure that awaited them both unless somehow food and shelter could be found. It was his responsibility to take care of the men in his command. Now that command was reduced to one, but no less a responsibility for that.

"You should try and sleep, sir." the sergeant broke in. "I'll keep watch."

Ash sighed. Without replying he stretched himself out, and pillowed his head on his arms. But unlike the night before, sleep did not come easily. Even keeping his eyes closed was difficult, and he found that without realizing it he was continuing to stare off into the distance, off into a distance of pale blank plain, where nothing moved, off into the distance where heat shimmered off the dusty ground, off into the distance where… there was a flash of color?

Hardly daring to believe, he wiped his eyes. It was still there, a dot of blue and a dot of yellowish green. Moving dots!

"Sergeant! Look!" He pushed himself up to a sitting position. "Over there! Something's moving!"

The sergeant caught his breath. "Aye sir, I see it! Looks like… Sir! It looks like it's people, sir!" He jumped to his feet, and reached down and pulled Ash up next to him.

It was two people, and they seemed to be heading in the direction of the hill on which Ash and James were standing. They were to far away to make out details, but the colors that had caught Ash's eye were their shirts, one as blue as the still-cloudless sky overhead, one a yellowish that defied easy description.

"We'd better attract their attention, Sergeant. Perhaps you'd care to do the honors?" Ash knew that the sergeant had an awesomely loud yelling voice when he cared to use it.

James looked troubled. "They may be the ones responsible for us being here, sir."

"Even if they are, there's nothing we can do about it. Unless one of them is half crippled too," Ash said bitterly, "they can move much faster than us, so we can't sneak up on them. The only way we're going to be sure of making their acquaintance is to attract their attention. And since they're the only living things we've seen in two days, I don't think we have much choice about having to meet them."

"No, sir. Well then, I'll just have a go at a 'hello' then, shall I?" He drew in a deep breath and called out "HELLLLLLOOOOOOOOOO!" It was loud enough that the air around rang.

"Well done, Sergeant. That should get their attention."

They watched the two figures. It seemed as though they had been heard. The one in the blue shirt stopped short, and seemed to speak to the yellow shirted one. They looked up, scanning around. Ash pulled off his hat, and waved it in the air. The figure in blue pointed, and said something to the figure in yellow.

"I suppose we'd best be going to meet them, then." Ash said. "I'll manage by myself from here, Sergeant. This slope looks much easier."

Carefully they picked their way down, the sergeant keeping a discrete distance behind Ash. Slowly they made their way to where the mysterious figures were working their way towards them.

It wasn't long before they had closed the distance between them. The figure in the yellow shirt was in the lead, with the one in blue hanging behind. The yellow shirted one was revealed as a young but commanding man with brown hair.

When they were close enough for communication, Ash took the initiative. He pulled himself up to military straightness, even though he had to lean heavily on his cane. "Captain Brian Ash, Royal Engineers. And this is Sergeant James."

The man in the yellow shirt smiled. "I'm pleased to meet you, Captain. I'm Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise and this is my first officer, Mr. Spock." The man in the blue shirt stepped forward… and Ash suddenly felt the world spin under his feet. The man was tall and thin, with dark hair in an odd cut. But what Ash saw were the signs of difference. The strange greenish skin color. The alien slant to the eyebrows, and the angular planes of the face. But it was when he saw the tapering points to the ear tips that Ash's debilitated state caught up with him. His sight grew dark, the world fell away, and he knew nothing more.


	2. Chapter Two

Stardate 4524

 

James Kirk was not having a good day. In fact, he was having a particularly bad one.

It had started when he got up and brushed his hair. And spotted grey. Grey? How could that be? Surely he was to young for grey hair. Wasn't he? Certainly he was, it must have been his imagination. Or so he told himself, but his suspicion remained.

Then when he sat down in front of his terminal to get the day's news, the top headline was Carol Marcus getting some sort of scientific award. Kirk mostly tried to forget about Carol, who wanted him so thoroughly out of her life. Most of the time he was successful. But having to confront her image this early in the morning, before his coffee… hurt. Angrily he snapped off his terminal and grumpily made his way to breakfast.

He thought his day had made a turn for the better when he spotted Dr. McCoy, and slid into the seat next to him. But he soon realized his mistake. Dr. McCoy was in one of his famous bad moods, the ones that made timid ensigns take to faith healing or massage therapy rather than run the risk of asking for a headache pill, the moods that made braver members of the crew joke that the real function of Nurse Chapel was to keep her boss' meds in balance, but that occasionally she slipped up. One of those moods.

Kirk fled as soon as decently possible. Even worse than McCoy's blistering comments on his captain's life style choices (and all he had done was mention Carol, he hadn't been looking for sympathy, well, not much at any rate.) was the realization of the root cause of the doctor's dudgeon, not, as the jokes would have it, chemical imbalance, but the most dreaded job of any Department Head. The Quarterly Reports.

Quarterly reports which, Kirk now realized with dawning distaste, it was soon to be his task to read, edit, amend, sign, seal, duplicate, and send to Star Fleet. Along with his own quarterly reports.

God, he hated paperwork. Even though there was no longer any paper involved. And there was only so much that he could push on to his yeoman. Delegation only went so far. Wasn't it one of the presidents of the old United States who had the sign on his desk that said "The Buck Stops here"? Well eventually on the Enterprise the buck stopped with James T. Kirk.

It was only when he sat down, stylus in hand, that he remembered the reason why these quarterly reports were particularly to be dreaded.

They were the final quarter Quarterly Reports. When all three previous quarters had to be summed up and reported on. Including the one report he dreaded the most, the one that probably had put McCoy into his foul mood.

The casualty report. The list of every death, every crippling or debilitating injury suffered by crew for the time covered. Space was dangerous. Everyone knew that. The death tolls were high. Very high. And they were his people, his command, his responsibility. Every name on the list felt like a personal failure. It made him feel… old. Maybe that had been a grey hair this morning after all.

Kirk rubbed his eyes. He was starting to get a headache. Momentarily he thought of going to sickbay for something, and then remembered McCoy's mood. Maybe a nice massage was a better idea? Or a stop for a prayer at the ship's chapel?

And at that point Kirk's day really went to hell.

Suddenly, without warning, he felt himself slammed from the command chair. For a few moments there was pandemonium. Officers and crew scattered across the bridge deck, klaxons blaring, but within seconds the crew were back in their seats.

"What just happened?" Kirk barked out.

"Sir!" Ensign Checkov was the first to react. "Ve haf come to a total standstill in space!"

"Confirmed, Captain." Mr. Spock added.

"Minor casualties reported on all decks, Captain." Lieutenant Uhura reported. "Cuts and bruises, one possible broken arm in Life Support. Nothing worse. No reports of damage to the ship."

Kirk hit a switch on his command chair. "Engineering, report. Scotty, what's going on down there?"

"I canna' say" Commander Scott's familiar brogue cut through the hubbub. "Nothin' actually seems at' be wrong. It's more as though we've simply been caught and held."

That's when the laughter began, loud and manic. Uhura gave a small shriek of pain as she pulled her ear-bug out. "Sir! That's coming from every speaker in the ship!"

The laughter segued into speech "That's right, little predators, you're stuck here."

The voice was strange. Childish and adult at once, with a menacing tone of glee.

Kirk addressed the air in front of him. "I'm Captain James T. Kirk, and this is the Starship Enterprise. We…"

"I know who and what you are, little predator." The voice chuckled gloatingly. "It's taken me a long time to find you and arrange for the fun we're going to have now."

"If you know who and what we are," Kirk continued, "Then you know our mission is peaceful. We mean you no harm…"

"But I mean you a lot of harm. Just like you hurt me. You'll be sorry but it'll be too late. And it'll be fun."

Kirk struggled for words. "If we've hurt you in some way…"

The voice cut him off before he could say more. "You made me lose my best friend. Trelane's mother and father won't let him play with me any more." There was a collective gasp as the crew recognized the name of Trelane, otherwise known as the Squire of Gothos.

Kirk tried again. "If any harm came to you or Trelane through us…"

"Harm? He was my best friend. I could get him to do anything." There was an emphasis to the words that was decidedly unpleasant. "Now I have to try and find a new friend to help me. And that's not fun. And more parents are telling their brats 'Don't play with Grylock'. So I'm going to have my fun with you, little predators."

The voice laughed again. "Down on the planet below, there's a little present for you. Better find it before it's to late. 'Cause if you don't, you'll really be sorry. Some of you just won't be here any more. I lost my friend, so now you'll lose friends too."

"Planet below us? What planet? We're out in open space, there's no planet below us!"

"There is now!" Lieutenant Sulu's alarmed voice cut in. And we're heading right towards it, sir!"

"Plot an orbit and lay in." Kirk snapped. Sulu and Checkov's hands flew over their consoles.

"Ve are in orbit, Keptain." Checkov reported. His voice sounded shaky.

The voice, which had been silent, laughed again. "Now you just need to find your present. And figure out what to do about it." It chuckled.

Then it got more reflective. "The one thing I could never get Trelane to do was mess with the Long-ago. Scaredy-cat. He was afraid to get caught. But I'm not afraid of the Long-ago. So you'd better find your present really fast, little predator,. "Cause the Long-ago can change."

Kirk swallowed, hard. "How long do we have?"

The laughter came again. "In ten of your days, you lose this round. And then when I see what happens, I'll think of something else for you to do."

There was one more gale of laughter, then, blissfully, silence.

"Sensors" Kirk snapped. "What can you tell about that planet?"

"Very little, Sir." Spock replied. "There seems to be some sort of interference field. Undoubtedly to make our task harder. However, I can say this much. It is small, barely the size of earth's moon. But it has a gravity approximately that of Earth, and a breathable atmosphere. At first glimpse it appears to be lifeless."

"All right, Spock, whoever this 'Grylock' is, he seems to be the same type of creature as Trelane. So I want you, McCoy, and everyone else who met Trelane, down in the main briefing room in an hour. That's Uhura, Sulu, Lt. Jaeger, Lt. LaSalle, and Yeoman Ross, I don't think there was anyone else. Also I want Dr. Noel there, I think we're going to need some psychological input."

He hit the switch on his chair. "Scotty? How's everything down there?"

"Everything seems to be normal, Captain." Mr. Scott replied.

"Then I need you on the bridge to take the com."

"Aye, sir." Scotty wasn't happy, Kirk could tell, to leave the engine room, but Kirk wanted him on the bridge since neither Spock nor he would be there.

* * *

An hour later the assembled group sat around the large briefing room table.

 

"I want this patched in to all decks." Kirk said. Uhura made some adjustments to the communications equipment. Kirk continued "Anyone with any thoughts feel free to break in. Spock, will you recap the Trelane incident for everyone?"

"The entity who called himself Trelane, the Squire of Gothos, was a non-corporeal intelligence of vast power. He was, however, essentially just a child. He had been studying Earth. And was pleased when he found real humans to "play" with. Fortunately his game was broken up by the arrival of his parents."

"Sir" Dr. Helen Noel, the ship's psychiatrist broke in. " A point. I've reviewed the reports of the Trelane incident. As terrifying as the events were in and of themselves, Trelane didn't actually harm anyone, until you had provoked him to anger. He did seem like a naughty, mischievous child, but not an inherently evil one. In fact, it seemed as though he simply wanted to play, and he expected you to enjoy his games as well. He was hurt when you didn't, and threw, essentially, a tantrum. But this Grylock seems different. He seems malicious. Malevolent, even. And we have his own words that Trelane's parents, and others as well, are keeping their children away from him. He sounds like a developing sociopath. In layman's terms, Trelane seems like the little boy who puts a frog down a girls blouse because he likes her. Grylock is more like the type of child who starts by torturing small animals and goes on from there."

There were dismayed sounds from around the table.

"All right everyone. What do we know about what Trelane could and couldn't do?"

"Well, we know he could instantaneously transmute matter, sir." Yeoman Ross put in. "I still have the dress he made for me. I was upset about it at the time, but actually it's rather pretty."

"He could teleport things up to the size of that small planetoid he was based on. And he had total control over its atmosphere and gravity." Lt. Jaeger, the geologist, put in. "And he spoke perfect German."

"And French" Lt. LaSalle added.

"But he never spoke to Sulu or I in either Swahili or Japanese." Uhura pointed out. "So apparently he wasn't reading our minds. But he had some ability to influence our minds, for instance the way he gave me the ability to play his harpsichord."

"He used the physical machinery that was hidden behind the mirror in his dining room, but he wasn't limited to it." Spock reminded them. "Of course, we have no idea how much of what Trelane could do, Grylock can as well. Or how much more. It is interesting that while Trelane was using a rouge planetoid, with no star, Grylock has put us in orbit around a planet in a small, but existing solar system."

"What do we know about the planet, Spock?"

"The planet, as I have said, is small, but with an anomalously high gravity, which Grylock may have manipulated. It is the only body circling this star. There is some sort of interference field being generated that prevents us from scanning more than a small part of it at any time, and which also makes it difficult to pinpoint anything with any degree of accuracy. I have programmed the sensors to continually scan sections for any sign of anything out of the ordinary, since we have no idea what the 'present' Grylock mentioned is."

"Can we make any assumptions about it, Spock?"

"His use of the term 'Long-ago' is suggestive of the possibility of something concerning time travel." Spock said gravely. "There is an additional factor that lends credence to that assumption."

"And that is…?"

"One of the first things that Ensign Chekov and I did after Grylock left us, was to attempt to determine our location by means of star charts.. We are, in fact, not far at all from where we were." Spock touched a control and the ship's coordinates appeared on the terminal. "However, in the process, we discovered something disconcerting. This entire solar system is apparently surrounded by an energy field, and outside that field, time appears to have stopped."

"How is that possible, Spock? He can't be powerful enough to stop time, can he?"

"Doubtful, Captain. Rather what I suspect is that he has created this pocket of space as a fold in the space-time continuum. It is not that time has ceased to pass, it is rather that this part of space exists separately from the rest of the space-time continuum. Just as it is attached at one particular physical location, the coordinates that I have shown, and when we leave this place we will be at those coordinates, so it is attached at only one temporal location as well, and when we leave, we will be at that point in time."

"Say that in English" McCoy broke in testily.

"Basically" Spock translated "As long as we stay here, nothing changes in the outside world, because when we leave we will return to the exact moment that we entered."

"You could have said that the first time." McCoy grumbled.

"I believe I did, doctor."

Kirk rubbed his forehead. "Gentlemen, now is not the time." McCoy made an apologetic grunt. "Spock, thank you." Spock bowed slightly. "McCoy" Kirk went on, "Do you have any medical report?"

Dr. McCoy shook his head. "There were no serious injuries reported. The worst was an ensign with a broken arm. I agree with Dr. Noel's psychological impressions, by the way. Trelane made me want to put him over my knee and give him a good old-fashioned spanking. But this Grylock is on a different level altogether."

"Excuse me, sirs. Lt. Freeman from engineering." A voice broke in over the intercom. "I'm wondering, is it likely that this 'present' might be people that Grylock's pulled through time?"

"Quite possible, lieutenant. We'll have to be conscious of that possibility." Kirk agreed. "Does anyone have anything else to add?" No one did.

"All right then. Spock, continue scanning the planet. Unless something else occurs, we'll adjourn now, and meet again tomorrow at this same time. Dismissed,"

* * *

Time moved slowly. Kirk spent most of it restlessly pacing, or staring moodily at the image of the planet on the view screen. To kill time he even tried working on the quarterly reports, but he couldn't concentrate. The rest of the day passed, and Kirk forced himself to try and sleep. He didn't like feeling this helpless. It made him cranky. He slept badly.

 

The next morning there was no change. When the time came for the second briefing, the only new thing to report was that Spock had scanned half the planet without finding anything other than rock, sand and water. Kirk adjourned the second briefing, and went back to staring and pacing.

Then, halfway through the afternoon, Spock suddenly looked up from his scanner.

"Captain. I believe we have found something."

All activity on the bridge ceased. "What is it, Spock?"

"Two life forms. Possibly human, but the interference is making it difficult to be sure."

"Can you pinpoint an exact location?"

"Negative. The best I can do is somewhere within an area of roughly one square mile. Once on the planet's surface it might be possible to focus more precisely.

"Well then we'll have to go down, won't we?" Kirk said cheerfully. Anything to finally be taking some action. "Spock, you and I will beam down together."

* * *

When they arrived the planets surface was just as Kirk had imagined, bleak, windy, and rocky. Spock took tricorder readings.

 

"That way, Captain." he indicated. The two officers set off.

It had been a little over an hour of walking, with Spock pausing for occasional tricorder readings, when he stopped and looked up.

"Captain, I heard a shout." They scanned the horizon. "There. On the top of that hill." Spock pointed.

Kirk could just barely see two figures. One was waving its arm in the air. As they watched, the two figures began to pick their way toward Kirk and Spock.

"Well, come on, Spock, let's go meet our… 'present'."

The two strangers didn't make very good speed. Kirk realized why when he saw that the one in the lead was leaning heavily on a cane, barely able to move its right leg. By the time he realized that, he's also seen that the two figures -men- were wearing some sort of uniform.

"Spock, can you identify what they're wearing?"

"Earth. Middle twentieth century. I'd say, Second World War. British, I believe. Beyond that I would not care to speculate, Captain."

"Looks like Freeman was right in his guess. At least they're the good guys."

Now the men were close enough to see clearly. The one with the cane, in the lead, was a tall, sandy-haired man. A face that should have been young and handsome was disfigured by lines of pain, and by a large scar that covered his left cheek. Another scar cut down his forehead, and the hand that held his cane was similarly disfigured. He moved stiffly, plainly in a great deal of pain. He barely looked at Kirk and Spock, his efforts clearly going into keeping himself moving.

Behind him and slightly to the side, the other man was both older and smaller. He had dark hair, thinning, and parted severely in the middle. Although obviously exhausted, he moved much more easily than his leader, and his eyes, dark with worry, alternated between watching Spock and Kirk, and the man he followed.

When they had reached each other, the younger man stopped, pulled himself up rigidly straight, and snapped out "Captain Brian Ash, Royal Engineers. And this is Sergeant James." His accent was British, clean and crisp. His voice was a light tenor.

Kirk smiled in what he hoped was a friendly, non-threatening manner. "I'm pleased to meet you. I'm Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise, and this is my first officer, Mr. Spock." Spock stepped forward.

Captain Ash's face drained of all color. He swayed for a moment, and his cane dropped from his hand. Then he simply crumpled up and collapsed.


	3. Chapter Three

Sergeant James had been trying to divide his attention between the strangers, and keeping his eye on Ash. Of course the captain wanted to do this himself, that went without saying, but James was also aware of how close to the edge of collapse from exhaustion and exertion his commander was. So after the stranger in the yellowish shirt (was that supposed to be some sort of uniform?) had introduced himself and the pointy-eared beastie, in his flat Yank accent (Yanks? Here? Probably still oversexed and overpaid, too), when Ash's cane fell from his hand, and Ash himself started swaying, James had been ready. When the captain collapsed, he was able to grab him as he fell and lower him gently to the ground.

 

"He needs a doctor." James eyed the strangers, his voice carefully neutral.

"Yes, of course." The yellow-shirted one - Kirk, was the name? - said. "We'll beam up to the ship. Um… this is a bit difficult to explain. We'll be teleporting instantaneously up."

"The same way we got here… aye. So it was you that brought us?" James kept his voice non-committal, but there was anger in his eyes.

"No, it wasn't, but I assume the method was similar. Look, this is all very complicated, let's just get your officer to sickbay and then we can explain everything."

"Aye." James nodded his assent.

Kirk pulled a small object off his belt.

"Mr. Scott. Four to beam up. And have Dr. McCoy report to the transporter room."

The world dissolved into a sparkle of lights.

Afterwards Sergeant James was never able to clearly remember the exact sequence of events, just scattered impressions. The strange room where they appeared. The young blond man standing behind the control panel, with the accent as comfortingly British as Ash's own, who cried out "Sir! I recognize those uniforms!". The older, more burly man who called out "Dr. McCoy to transporter room" in a brogue as thick as James' own, or more so. So it wasn't just Yanks here, wherever this strange place was. That was good to know.

The doctor, middle aged and bossy, another Yank, but with a different accent. The white corridors, seemingly endless, with men and women… women! wearing the same strange colorful uniforms. Finally the bonny blond lass helping the doctor to get Ash onto a bed. James hovered as unobtrusively as possible while the doctor waved strange instruments over the captain, and injected him with what James assumed was some fancy hypodermic.

At last the doctor turned to James. "He's exhausted. I've given him something so he can sleep. Aside from that he's slightly dehydrated, and needs a good meal. How long has it been since he ate?"

"Two days" James told him.

"Hmmm. Not serious then. He can eat when he wakes up. He'll be fine. Now let's look at you." The doctor advanced on James with his instruments. "You're not in much better shape. " He indicated the next bed. "In."

James shook his head. "Nay, Doctor. I'm under orders to keep watch while the captain sleeps."

The doctor frowned. "I'm the only one who gives orders in my sickbay." He turned to the blond. "Nurse. The hypo please." There was a flash of silver, before James could react, and a hissing noise. He had a moment to feel dizzy, and then blackness.

* * *

Nurse Chapel helped Dr. McCoy get the sergeant into bed. Then they stepped back and looked at their patients.

 

"I'll get a couple of orderlies to help undress them. Their uniforms are filthy. They must have had a bad time down there." McCoy said to Chapel. "Captain Kirk wants to know if they have anything on them to tell us who they are."

Chapel was studying Captain Ash's face. Asleep, the pain lines had smoothed out, and he looked young and vulnerable. McCoy sighed. "Whoever he is, he's been through some kind of hell in the past, with these injuries. It's a shame about the scars. He must have been a good looking man once."

Chapel brushed an errant lock of hair out of Ash's face. She smiled sadly. "You don't think like a woman, doctor. He's still very beautiful." She paused, then added more thoughtfully, "And he reminds me of someone, though I can't think who."

* * *

Captain Kirk had called another briefing, again patching it through to all decks. This time he had included Lieutenant Kyle, due to his recognition of the British uniforms.

 

"All right people. Our primary question right now is, who are our guests down in sickbay, and what are we going to do about them? Mr. Spock?"

"Based on what they themselves said, and backed up by identification papers which Dr. McCoy obtained from them in sickbay…"

"You don't have to make it sound like I rolled them in an alley, Spock." McCoy grumbled. "I just emptied their pockets so their uniforms could be cleaned."

Spock pointedly ignored the doctor's outburst and continued calmly, "They are Captain Brian Ash, a 25 year old officer in the 97th company of the Royal Engineers, and Sergeant Robert James, 42, also of the 97th company. The most recent dates on their papers seem to indicate that they came from some time in 1944. Historical records from all of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries are, of course, very fragmented, and we have so far been unable to find anything about either man, although we are still searching. However, it seems that Mr. Kyle is something of a military historian and recognized their uniforms when they came on board. Mr. Kyle?"

Kyle cleared his throat nervously, unused to giving reports in the briefing room to the entire crew. "Well sir. Like their papers say, those are World War Two Royal Engineers uniforms. But it's the red patch halfway down the arm that tells what they do. That's special, very few people had the right to wear that. It shows they're in bomb disposal."

"Bomb disposal?" Kirk said blankly.

"Yes sir. You see, during the Blitz, the part of the Second World War when the Germans were bombing British cities almost every night, it turned out that not every bomb exploded on impact. The Germans had found out that a bomb that exploded later, when no one was expecting it, could be more devastating than ones that exploded when people were down in their shelters. They killed more civilians that way, killed the men in the fire brigades when they tried to put out the burning buildings, killed police, and civil defense workers… " Kyle trailed off, then started again. "Well, anyway. The unexploded bombs, when they were found, had to be defused before they could be taken away and disposed of. The royal Engineers were given the job. It was very dangerous. There was no training at first, just trial and error. At the start of the war, the average life expectancy of an officer in bomb disposal was only seven weeks. For enlisted men it was pretty bad, too. By the end of the war, over 50 officers and over 300 enlisted men had been killed in bomb disposal."

Around the table there were shocked expressions. Lieutenant Sulu gave a low whistle.

"So what we have here is…?"

"What we have here, sir, is a pair of heroes! It looked to me like they'd both been decorated as well, though I didn't really get a good look…"

Dr. McCoy harrumphed. "What we have here is a painfully young man who's obviously been through hell, and an older man who's not much better off. The things we humans do to each other. Spock, sometimes I think your people had the right idea after all.." He sat grumpily rubbing his chin, his eyes distant.

"Doctor, do you have a medical report?" Kirk broke in.

McCoy gathered himself. "Well, both of them were exhausted. I have them sleeping now. The sergeant said he was under orders to keep watch, but I put him under before he had a chance to argue. They both need the rest, and I thought you'd be happier knowing they weren't going anywhere. But I don't think the sergeant is goin' to be pleased with us when we wake him up. I suggest we wake Captain Ash first and let him do the honors."

"Good thought, Bones. I'll want to talk to him first anyway." Kirk agreed.

McCoy continued, "As well as exhausted, and suffering superficial cuts and bruising, both men were slightly dehydrated and hadn't eaten for two days. I rehydrated them and gave them a supplement, but when they wake up they'll want a good meal." The doctor sighed. "I wish I could keep the two of them there for a few days and feed them up. The captain especially. That boy is so thin his ribs stick out."

"If they really come from 1944, they've been living with wartime shortages and rationing for five years." Kyle put in. "Even with American aid, the whole population was feeling it."

"Well, in the case of Captain Ash, I think there's more to it than that that." McCoy said. "Hell, you saw the boy's condition. Facial scaring, his hand. Whatever happened to him was recent, and extensive. He's had a fractured jaw, a minor skull fracture, his right knee is practically useless, kneecap shattered, nerve and ligament damage. He has scars over the rest of his body, too, particularly one under his heart where it looks like a shard of something was removed. And he's still riddled with small fragments of metal. I'd say he's just finished a long hospital stay. I assume one of the bombs he was supposed to be defusing went 'bang' instead." The doctor punctuated his words with an explosive gesture. "The sergeant has been injured too, though less extensively. He's got some superficial facial scaring, and there's signs that his right arm was violently dislocated. But that was a couple of years ago."

Kyle shook his head. "If one of his bombs exploded while he was defusing it, he wouldn't be alive."

"Well something exploded and almost took him with it." McCoy snapped.

"Thank you, doctor." Kirk acknowledged. "Dr Noel, do you have any psychological input for us?"

"About the men themselves, obviously very little. From your and Dr. McCoy's reports, I'd say the sergeant seems quite devoted to his captain. I hope that's the case, and that the captain is worthy of his loyalty and returns it, because it will make their adjustment to being here much easier if each of them has something to depend on."

"How difficult will their adjustment be?"

"Hard to say. Obviously this is quite unlike anything they've ever known. However, the concepts of space travel and even of time travel may not present as much of a problem as you might think. Certainly not as much as if they came from even as little as 50 years earlier."

"Why is that?"

"The ideas of time and space travel are very much 'in the air' in their time. As early as 1865, Jules Verne had written of traveling to the moon, and H. G. Wells wrote The Time Machine in 1895, War of the Worldsin 1898, and First Men in the Moon in 1901. From 1912 onwards, Edgar Rice Burroughs was writing his John Carter on Mars books, and later wrote books set on the moon, and Venus, bringing the ideas of life on other worlds into more popular literature. Einstein's General Theory of Relativity was published in 1915, which made talk of other dimensions and time travel theoretically plausible. The 1930s are considered the start of the Golden Age of science fiction, with many of the greats who are still read today, like Heinlein or Clarke, first being published in pulp magazines. In the movies, Flash Gordon and Buck Rogers serials made space ships and outer space monsters visual and part of popular entertainment. So they have had ample opportunity to be exposed to those ideas."

"Why Dr. Noel! You sound quite the expert." Kirk smiled.

Dr. Noel blushed. "Well actually, it is an interest of mine. However, I also did some other research to see what we could expect from our visitors. It's important to remember that they have no reason to trust us. Reading between the lines of what the sergeant said on the planet's surface, they were snatched without warning from their time and place, they have no idea who's responsible, and they have nothing but your word that we aren't. On the other hand, they will be aware that they are totally dependant on us for their lives at this point. I would expect a certain amount of hostility on those accounts, but most likely they'll be trying to stay on our good sides. It's important that we try to win them over, so to speak, convince them that we're trustworthy. It's also important for us to remember that there are things about our culture that will be totally foreign to them, confusing and even possibly threatening."

"Such as?"

"Well for instance, the presence of women on the ship, serving as equals. In their time women serve only in special auxiliary services, and only in support roles. Also, their standards of discipline and order are much more rigid. We'll seem extremely lax in comparison. And they'll have very strict rules of class and rank. Don't expect to see any outward displays of friendship between them in public. What I'm getting at is that we can't expect their reactions to be what we think they should be. They're from over 300 years in our past, and our ways are not the same as theirs in many respects."

"So can they adjust to our time?"

"Actually, Captain" Spock broke in, "The correct question is, should they? We have to assume that Grylock brought them here in order to disrupt the past. The most obvious assumption is that we must return them to their proper time."

"But the obvious isn't always correct, Spock. Suppose Grylock removed them just before they were to die in an explosion? Then if we return them alive…" He stopped. Pain flashed over his face as he remembered Edith Keeler, the beautiful and gentle woman he'd loved so briefly, and had to allow to die in 1930 in order to protect the proper flow of history. McCoy stared at him bleakly, also remembering Edith.

"At least" McCoy finally said, "If that's the case, they don't have to die. They can live out their lives in this time."

"That may not be much consolation to them, Doctor." Spock said. "They have lives, possibly loved ones they would have to leave behind. Your report lists a photo of a young woman among Captain Ash's papers, presumably a wife or girl friend."

"I didn't say it was a good alternative. Just a better one than dyin' from an exploding bomb." McCoy snarled.

"Gentlemen, please." Kirk admonished. "Our first problem is to determine if they should go back or not. The second problem, assuming the answer is yes, is how do we do it while we're trapped here?" He summarized. "We'll adjourn until our guests can join us. McCoy, how long will that be?"

"I'd like to let them get at least a full nights sleep. And they'll need to get cleaned up, eat… Maybe at 0900 hours tomorrow?"

"Agreed. Spock, keep searching the historical records. Let me know if anything turns up. We'll meet again at 0900 hours. Mr. Kyle, you seem to be the closest thing we have to an authority here, please fill Dr. McCoy in on anything our guests might need when they wake up."

"Yes sir." Kyle nodded.

And at that point there was a rasping, sniggering burst of laughter over the speakers.

"Well done, little predators." chortled the hatefully familiar voice of Grylock. There was almost a touch of respect. "You found my present much faster than I expected. But now, the quandary… what to do, what to do? This is so much fun, watching you scurry around all over."

"Grylock!" Kirk cried out. "I'm the one you should be angry at, no one else. I'm the one who got Trelane in trouble with his parents. Send my ship and crew home, put Captain Ash and the sergeant back, and just keep me…"

"No way, Little Predator." Grylock giggled. "I'm having to much fun watching. Besides, I told you. You made me lose my friend so you're going to lose friends too." There was a final burst of chuckles, then silence.

"A worthy try, Captain. But doomed to failure." Spock said gravely.

"But it still had to be tried." Kirk sighed. "All right everyone. We all have jobs to do, let's do them. Until 0990 tomorrow, dismissed."

* * *

Captain Ash opened his eyes to find himself in an unfamiliar room. For a moment he was confused, then memory rushed back. The strange landscape, the terrible journey with Sergeant James… he sat up. "Sergeant James!"

 

"He's right over there, Captain Ash, still asleep." a voice said. "He wanted to stand watch while you were out, but I'm afraid my doctor decided he needed sleep too, and didn't give him a choice."

It was the man who had introduced himself just before… "Kirk, isn't it?" Ash asked.

"Yes. Dr. McCoy thought we should let you wake up the sergeant yourself. I think he's afraid to face him after knocking him out."

The thought of an angry Sergeant James confronting a doctor who had dared to drug him forced a small chuckle from Ash, but he quickly suppressed his humor.

"Where are we?"

"Well right now you're in the sickbay of my ship, the starship Enterprise."

"Starship? You mean some kind of space ship? Like in that 'Buck Rogers' stuff? But you sound American."

"Like that 'Buck Rogers' stuff, yes. This is difficult to explain. Somehow you and your sergeant have ended up about 500 light-years from Earth, and over 300 years in your future."

A cold sickness rushed over Ash. "We'd figured we were pretty damn far from home. But… 300 years in the future? How? Can you put us back?"

"We aren't entirely sure, but it may be possible. I'm having a briefing with my officers in two hours time, I want you and your sergeant there. We'll tell you what we know then. For now, we've had your uniforms cleaned." He pointed across the room, where the two uniform were neatly laid out on chairs, along with Ash's coat and coveralls. "The contents of your pockets are all there in those two boxes on the table. And there's a bathroom where you can get cleaned up." He indicated a door. "When you and Sergeant James are ready, Dr McCoy has breakfast ready for you." Kirk grinned in a conspiratorial manner. "He thinks you need feeding up."

"I don't remember the doctor. Only the green one with the ears…" Ash trailed off.

"My first officer, Mr. Spock. I promise he isn't as intimidating as he looks. You don't remember the doctor because you were unconscious from the time we came on board, so you haven't met him." He raised his voice. "Doctor, your patient is awake."

An older man with a blue uniform top bustled in. "Good. How are you feelin' this morning?" Ash thought the accent was from the American south but he wasn't sure.

"Better, thank you doctor." Ash found a certain surrealism in having this conversation undressed in bed. "If you both could excuse me, I'd like to get dressed. Could we continue this later?"

"Of course, Captain. McCoy?"

"I'll want to do a through exam later, but for now, just try and take it easy on that leg. I've already given you something while you were asleep to bring the swelling down. Oh, and I saw a case with cigarettes among your possessions. I'm afraid there's no smoking allowed anywhere on the ship, but if you have a problem with nicotine addiction, I can fix you up a shot or a patch to keep you from having withdrawal symptoms."

"Ah, thank you, Doctor. I'll… consider it. Oh, my cane?"

"Right here." Kirk handed it to Ash, and the two left.

* * *

"Sergeant James?" The sergeant blearily opened his eyes to find Captain Ash bending over him.

 

"Sir!" He sat up. "I'm sorry sir, I wanted to keep watch like you ordered, but that bloody doctor…"

"That's all right, Sergeant. It was explained to me that it wasn't your fault. And I'm not sure what good it would have done anyway. There's not much we could do to keep them from doing anything they wanted."

"Do you know where we are, sir?"

Ash sighed. "Brace yourself, Sergeant, this is something of a shock. They say we're 300 years in the future."

The sergeant stared at Ash in shock. "In the future? You mean like in Buck Rogers?" His voice was dubious.

Ash laughed. "You know Sergeant, I said almost exactly the same thing when Captain Kirk told me. And he said 'Buck Rogers, yes.'"

"Do you believe them, sir?" An important question, James trusted the captain's ability to judge people. Of course, he trusted his own ability more, but he hadn't had a chance to talk to Kirk.

Ash looked thoughtful. "All things considered, yes, Sergeant, I think I do. It's the only thing that I can think of to explain what we've been through. The men I've spoken to have all been Americans, by their voices. I can't think of any other way they could have all this."

"It's not just Yanks, though, sir. When we came on board, there was one man who sounded just like you or Captain Pringle. And another, if he wasn't from Aberdeen, than I've never heard anyone who was."

"That's good to know. And it makes me more inclined to believe them, too."

"Aye" The sergeant agreed. "But how did we get here? Captain Kirk said they didn't bring us here, so who did? And can they get us home?"

Ash shook his head. "Kirk was less than forthcoming about how we got here, and rather non-committal about getting us back. I gather it's not impossible, though. He wants us both in a briefing in an hour. You can clean up in the lav. over there." He chuckled. "Don't let the door startle you, it slides automatically. There's no tub, but there's a shower bath, and there's a razor. They cleaned our uniforms, too. They emptied our pockets, but everything's there in the boxes on the table. I checked, it's all there, even your ticket from the flicks. I used your comb again, I'm afraid." James was just getting himself up, when Ash added "Oh, and Sergeant, do make it fast. We've been promised breakfast when you're ready." He grinned.

"Aye sir. That's an incentive, right enough." He smiled in return. "Even some of Corporal Wilkins's cooking would taste good about now."

Cleaned, dressed, and shaved, with his hair neatly combed, the sergeant felt more himself. The only thing lacking was something to slick his hair down properly, but he did the best he could with water. Breakfast had been brought in by the blond nurse. James found Ash chatting with her in a friendly manner when he came out. Ash looked up as the strange sliding door closed behind James.

"Nurse Chapel, have you met my sergeant yet? Sergeant James, Nurse Chapel."

"We've met." The nurse smiled at James. "I hope you aren't too angry at the doctor and me. You really did need the sleep, you know."

"Aye m'am. The captain's said it's all right, so it's done."

He sat down at the table, where there was a covered plate.

"I hope this is adequate. Mr. Kyle said this was something like a breakfast you'd be used to."

There were eggs, sausages, broiled kidney's broiled tomatoes, toast, and orange marmalade. "Aye, m'am" James said enthusiastically.

"Better than Wilkins's slop anyway, eh, Sergeant? And even better than Corporal Mould's bloaters in blood in the officers mess."

"Oh, there's something else, too." The nurse hurried out, then came back with a teapot on a tray.

"Good lord, you have done us up proper.." Ash said. "I'll pour, Sergeant. One lump or two? And do you like cream or… is that actually lemon juice?"

"I'm afraid the replicators aren't very good at recreating fresh fruit." Chapel apologized.

"Replicators? Never mind, don't explain. But don't apologize for not having fruit. It's been so long since I've seen a lemon I've almost forgotten what one looks like. Citrus fruit has to be saved for children and people with vitamin deficiencies, you know."

"Oh! Rationing! Yes, of course." Chapel looked flustered. "Look, I'll leave you two to eat now." With a final smile she left again.

The two men dug into their meal. "Well" Ash said eventually, "If they can't get us home, at least we won't starve. That's better than things were looking before."

"Aye, sir. After that place down there, anything's an improvement, right enough."

Neither of them spoke what they were both thinking… "But I hope they can get us home."


	4. Chapter Four

"Mr. Kyle, please report to Captain Kirk in the briefing room."

Kyle was surprised, but not worried. Unlike some of his fellow young officers, the flamboyant Sulu for instance, or the impulsive Riley, he knew he was not likely to be in trouble, so he assumed this had something to do with the Enterprise's visitors from the past.

"Lt. Kyle reporting, sir." he said as he entered, finding the captain and Mr. Spock inside.

"Ah, Mr. Kyle. Good." the captain said. "Mr. Spock and I have decided that it would be a good idea if you were to act as a guide for Captain Ash and the sergeant for as long as they're with us."

"Me, sir?" Kyle exclaimed, a bubble of joyous wonder blossoming inside him.

"Yes, Mr. Kyle." Spock said. "You are eminently suited. You have obvious historical knowledge of their time period, and you share a nationality and cultural background."

"Also" Kirk added, "You handled yourself very well when you were in charge of the American NCO we accidentally beamed on board from the Air Force base in 1968, when we had Captain Christopher with us. You didn't tell him anything he shouldn't know, and that will be an issue of great concern with these visitors as well. Mr. Spock?"

"The most important thing is not to give them any specific dates for historical events. We still do not know from when in 1944 they come, but if it was prior to D-day, it is imperative that they not learn the date nor place of the invasion. In all probability they either have or will guess, based on their observations of us, that they will win their war, but they should not know the dates of the surrenders, nor the terms. Nor should they know anything specific about the course of the war, especially the development of the atomic bomb, or any other weapons. For events after the war, use your discretion. Obviously it's more important that they not know about events that will occur during their probable life-spans than about things afterwards."

"Yes sir, I understand".

"All right then, Lieutenant." Kirk said. "It's about time for you to bring our guests to the briefing."

"Yes sir. And thank you." Kyle smiled brilliantly as he left.

* * *

"That was a supremely logical idea, Captain." Spock said after Kyle had left.

"Why thank you Mr. Spock, but I have to admit my decision was not totally logical."

"Indeed, Captain?"

"I saw the look in his eyes when he was talking during the briefing. That was hero worship, or I've never seen it. Kyle is a good officer, he deserves to have this time with his heroes."

"It is eminently logical to maximize the performance of an exemplary officer by rewarding him with something that increases his emotional satisfaction, Captain." Spock paused, then added "If one is dealing with a crew of humans, that is, of course."

"Of course." Kirk had the feeling his leg was being gently pulled. " Why, thank you, Mr. Spock." He grinned. Spock nodded gravely.

* * *

Ash and James had finished breakfast, and tidied themselves up while waiting for someone to summon them.

Nurse Chapel came into the room with a young blond man in a red uniform top. "Captain Ash? Sergeant James? This is Lt. Kyle, he's come to take you to the briefing room."

"I've been looking forward to meeting you both since you came on board." The young lieutenant said, reaching forward to shake Ash's hand enthusiastically. Ash realized from the familiar accent that this must have been the man James had seen and heard when they came on board. "Captain Kirk thought you might appreciate the sound of home, too." Kyle added.

Ash smiled in response. "I think the sergeant and I have you to thank for our breakfast as well."

"The captain said I should let Dr. McCoy know if there was anything I thought you would need. I'm glad you like it. I didn't think an English breakfast had changed too much, even in 300 years."

"Three hundred years." Ash sighed. "I'm amazed anyone even remembers."

" 'There will always be an England', sir." Kyle quoted.

Ash snorted, amused. "I suppose that means we won the war."

Kyle nodded. "Yes. I can't tell you much about it. If we're going to be able to send you back, there's things you shouldn't know in advance. But Mr. Spock said you would probably guess that much. What was the date when you were taken? We're pretty sure it was 1944, but that's all we know."

"The end of April." He looked at the sergeant. "The 24th wasn't it?"

"Aye, sir."

"Before the invasion, then." Kyle mused.

"Yes, though we all know it's coming." Ash's eyes lit up. "You must know when it's going to be."

"Sorry sir, that was one of the things the captain and Mr. Spock were most specific about, that I can't tell you anything about the time or the place. But yes, it's soon." Kyle indicated the door. "This way gentlemen. We don't want to be late."

They walked through the white halls, Kyle in the lead, then Ash, with the sergeant taking his comfortingly familiar spot behind and slightly to the side.

"How do you know so much about a war 300 years in your past, Lieutenant? It was you who recognized our uniforms when we came on board, wasn't it?"

Kyle blushed a little. "Well, sir, military history is a particular interest of mine, especially your war."

"Good heavens, why?"

"There were wars before, and there's been wars since, but the Second World War, your war, was different. There's not usually such clearly defined good and evil sides. You don't even know it all yet. By the time it ends, you will. When they start liberating the camps…" He stopped. "I don't think I should tell you about that."

"There's going to be a lot you can't tell us, I suppose." Ash said dryly.

Kyle nodded. "I'm sorry, sir. But" he brightened. "You can tell us so much! I've always been interested in the home front, and the Blitz, and how people survived, and, well, all of it."

Ash sighed. He'd seen that light in the eyes of people in the streets after he'd finished defusing a bomb, and it was being taken away. It was hero worship, or he'd never seen it.

"Don't get the wrong idea, Lt. Kyle. Mostly my work is hot, dirty, and despite what I idiotically managed to do to myself, nowhere near as dangerous as you've heard."

It was his standard disclaimer, and as he said it, he could feel the sergeant's look on the back of his neck, without needing to see it. Sergeant James would never publicly contradict his commanding officer, but Ash knew exactly what he was thinking, and it had something to do with Ash blaming himself for the mine explosion that had maimed him. In deference to the sergeant's feelings, he fell back enough to catch his eye, and gave him an apologetic look. The sergeant simply returned one of exasperation, and fell back a step himself.

The corridors were filled with hurrying men and women of all races. They politely moved aside to let the threesome pass. Ash noticed them pointing and whispering among themselves, and some of them smiled or even waved. He could make out occasional comments like "That must be them", and "Kyle got lucky with an assignment this time."

"I gather that out presence here isn't exactly a secret."

"No sir" Kyle admitted. "Captain Kirk thought that given our current circumstances the input of any of the crew could be potentially helpful."

"And just what are the current circumstances, anyway? Your captain said it wasn't you people who brought us here, so who did? And what are we doing here?"

"I think I'd better let the captain explain that, sir." Kyle said regretfully. "It's complicated, and all tied in with whether we can send you home or not."

Ash sighed. "Very well." He was getting tired of not getting a straight answer, but there was nothing to be gained by trying to bully a junior officer. Especially one who was going out of his way to be friendly and helpful.

"We're here" Kyle said, stopping before one of the strange sliding doors.

* * *

Kirk rose as Lt. Kyle entered with Ash and James. "Ah. Our guests. Captain Ash, Sergeant James, welcome. Have a seat." He indicated two empty chairs next to him. "Thank you Mr. Kyle." Kyle nodded and took a seat on the other side of the table, next to Uhura.

Kirk quickly ran through introductions. The composition of this briefing was somewhat different than the previous ones, he had left Sulu in charge of the bridge, and brought Mr. Scott down on the assumption they might need to discuss issues involved with time travel and the ship.

After the introductions were through, Captain Ash took a deep breath. "Look, I'm very pleased to meet you all, but right now what I'd really like are some explanations. How did Sergeant James and I get here, what are we doing here, and can you send us back?"

Kirk sighed. "That sums it up quite succinctly, yes. We don't know why you were brought here, except to be a puzzle for us. Who brought you here, that's… a long story."

"Apparently we have time." Ash said dryly.

"Yes. Well. As the human race moved out into space, we've found that not all alien races were what we expected. We expected something like Mr. Spock, here, people, just different from us." Spock nodded an acknowledgment. "Mostly, that was what we found. But not always. We found that life, and even intelligence, can exist without bodies. Some races have apparently evolved beyond the need for physical form. Some may never have had bodies, we don't know."

"Are you telling me that some bodiless alien bogeyman snatched us up from our time and dropped us here? How? Why? Why us?"

"Essentially, that is exactly what the captain is saying." Spock broke in. Ash gave him a look of slight bemusement, as though the sight of Spock's inhumanity still disturbed him. "And the question of why he chose you two specifically is one of the things we are here to investigate."

"Why who chose us?" Ash snapped.

"His name is apparently Grylock, or at least that's what he calls himself. He is, or seems to be, a juvenile member of a race of non-corporeal energy life-forms."

"Juvenile? You mean a child brought us here?"

"Yes. But a child of vast and unknown powers. Furthermore, a child who's actions and statements put us in grave doubt of his psychological normality."

"You're saying he's insane?" Ash said skeptically.

"So it seems." Kirk agreed. "Several years ago we had an encounter with Trelane, another child of Grylock's race, who played with us as…" Kirk searched for the proper word. "Pets for some time. We were eventually rescued by the intervention of Trelane's parents. Judging from what Grylock says, they blamehim for being a bad influence on their child, and have forbidden them to see each other."

"With some justification, apparently" McCoy broke in. "Grylock seemed pretty proud of leading Trelane astray."

"Grylock blames us for some reason. Lt. Uhura, please play back the log recording ofhis first communication with us."

"Yes, sir." Uhura pressed the appropriate controls, and Grylock's unpleasant voice filled the briefing room.

Ash and James listened impassively.

"What he doesn't say, that we found out on our own, is that he's pocketed us in a tiny fold of thespace-time continuum, so that time isn't passing outside. We have those 10 days he gave us, of which six are left, and then time restarts and we have to face the consequences of what we've done or haven't done. Or we break out early, if we can…"

"Oh, we can break out, never fear." Mr. Scott broke in.

"Thank you Mr. Scott for your vote of confidence. If we break out early, time restarts at that point."

"Was that the only time this Grylock made himself known?" Ash asked.

"No. After we found the two of you, he visited us again. Lieutenant?" Uhura touched the controls again.

Afterwards Ash and James exchanged looks. "So we're the 'present' he left for you." Ash said finally. "But… why us?"

"That is the question." Spock agreed. Out of all the people in human history, what made Grylock pick you two in particular? At first we were unable to find any historical records on either of you at all. It was actually Mr. Kyle who gave me the clue of where to look eventually."

"Me, sir?" Kyle said, his voice puzzled.

"Yes. The obvious depth of your interest in the subject of our visitor's duties made me consider that others in the past might have felt similarly. I switched from searching official historical records to sociological records of archival material. In a database of collected scrapbooks, I found this." He touched a control on the terminal.

A black and white picture appeared, apparently cut from a magazine. It showed a group of men in uniform. The two central ones were obviously Ash and James, but it was a younger, unscarred, Ash. Most of the men were standing around a metal framework from which the ominous shape of a bomb hung. In the lower right corner of the picture, two men sat. One sat in a chair, bending over, another, appallingly young, Kirk thought, knelt on the ground. Oddly enough a small shaggy dog was running across the front of the picture. The sergeant had been caught in the act of turning towards it, disapproval in his face.

"This was taken some time in 1940." Spock said. "It comes from a magazine apparently called Picture Post. The caption reads…"

Ash cut him off. "The caption reads 'The men who did the job. Another bomb is successfully dug out from under a London…' oh, I forget now. Residence, was it? Good Lord, can't I get away from that damn article even 300 years in the future? Is that all there is left of my life?"

Kirk had to chuckle at his outraged tone. "I gather, Captain Ash, that the article was something of a sore spot?"

Ash laughed bitterly. "I got strongly reprimanded because my men and I looked like, oh, what was it? Scarecrows, I think Captain Francis called us." He snorted. "I was told to make it look real. Then Wilkins got the idea it would be cute to have that damn dog in the picture. Sergeant James, whatever possessed me to agree to it?"

The sergeant looked straight ahead. "I couldn't say sir." He paused. "The photographer thought it was a good idea."

Ash snorted. "I know you didn't think so, Sergeant. It taught me a lesson in taking your advice."

The sergeants face remained absolutely impassive, only for the briefest moment a gratified expression flickered over his eyes.

"Everything would have been fine if only Wilkins had kept hold of the bloody little beast." Ash added sourly.

The barest hint of a smile might have possibly touched the sergeant's lips. "I will say, sir, that it did capture some of the occasionally disorganized nature of the work. They did say they wanted it real."

Ash sighed. "Group wanted it real. Francis had other ideas. Of course it was Hitler who got the final laugh. After a few articles like that, we started getting bombs with fuses deliberately designed to kill defusers." His eyes darkened with pain.

"All this is… fascinating, to coin a phrase." Kirk said with a sideways glance at Spock. "But it does nothing to settle our problem. Captain Ash, what were you and the sergeant doing when you were taken?"

"Defusing a bomb, of course. On 24 April, 1944. Its an unusual situation, though. An old 250 Kg, from the beginning of the war, hadn't been found before. In a disused warehouse." Ash laughed dryly. "Or actually, we have reason to believe that the building had been used by black marketers, and that's why the bomb hadn't been reported. A type 17 fuse, which means it has a clockwork timer. Obviously that was jammed or it would have blown up years ago. I had just told Sergeant James to get the clockstopper, in case moving the bomb unjammed the mechanism, when there was a flash of light, and then we were in that damn desert. Have I forgotten anything, Sergeant James?"

"That sums it up, sir."

"Do you think the bomb exploded, Captain?"

"It was our first thought when we woke up. What else were we to think? It was possible. No matter how long it had been sitting there, moving it to get at the fuse could have started the clock again, and there's no way to tell how much time it had on it. Days, or seconds. That's why the rest of the section was outside, back at the safety point."

"And if it had exploded?"

Ash shrugged. "Standing where we were? In an enclosed area to contain the blast? We wouldn't be here to be a problem for you."

"I hate to put it like this, Captain" Kirk pressed, "But would the bodies have been identifiable?"

Ash just looked at him for a moment. "There wouldn't be bodies." he said finally.

"Well that's a relief." Dr McCoy broke in. "That way if you're supposed to be dead, we can just let you stay here."

"That's a tactless way to put it." Mr. Scott chided.

"Mmmm? Oh yes, sorry. But it was something I was worried about."

"Look" broke in Ash "I thought the only question was could you send us back. What's this about 'supposed to be dead' and staying here? Can you or can't you send us back?"

"It's not that simple" Spock explained. "Our first priority has to be maintaining the integrity of the time line. If you and Sergeant James are meant to live past April 24th , then we must find a way to return you. If on the other hand, historically you did not live past that date, then our only choices become either to keep you here in our time, or to return you to certain death. If it wasn't for the intervention of Grylock, we could simply return you to the moment from which you left and let history take it's course. However, we have no way of knowing what else Grylock may have interfered with. He may have somehow caused the bomb to explode, when it would otherwise have been safely defused. Alternately, he may have himself defused a bomb that otherwise would have exploded, therefore leaving you alive when you should not be."

A look of shock passed over Ash's face. He swallowed. "That's bloody cold." He snapped. "That's our lives you're talking about."

"It would be regrettable, if your deaths are required. As Dr. McCoy has said, though, in that instance we do have the alternative of allowing you to stay here in our time."

"Captain Ash" Kirk broke in. "You and Sergeant James have, obviously, faced dying doing your duty before. This is no different. Besides, we don't know yet. We may end up turning all our efforts to determining how to keep you alive. And without more evidence, we just don't know which."

"Captain" Lt. Uhura spoke for the first time. "I have an idea. It's something Grylock said, twice in fact. Wait, let me find it." She pressed controls. "Here. This is from the first time."

The unpleasant voice of Grylock came through the speaker. "…there's a little present for you. Better find it before it's to late. 'Cause if you don't, you'll really be sorry. Some of you just won't be here any more. I lost my friend, so now you'll lose friends too."

"Then this, from the second time." Uhura worked the controls again.

"…told you. You made me lose my friend so you're going to lose friends too."

"It sounds to me like he means something specific. Not just disruption to history, but specific people who won't be here on the Enterprise. Maybe because they won't be born. Sir, what if he knows someone in the crew is descended from either Captain Ash or Sergeant James?"

"Brilliant, Lieutenant! Yes." Kirk said thoughtfully. "If either of them has descendents here on the Enterprise, it means they lived long enough to have children."

"I can do a DNA scan and compare them to everyone on the ship" McCoy broke in. "All I need is a blood sample from the two of them. The crew's are already on record. Wouldn't even take that long. I can have a full report by tomorrow morning."

"Of course, that would only be proof if the line of descent comes from a child engendered after April 24, 1944." Spock pointed out. "Captain Ash, do either you or the sergeant have children?"

"Neither of us is married." Ash replied.

"McCoy broke in. "In or out of marriage, it doesn't matter. Captain, is there any chance you have a child?"

"Ash sputtered, "No! I…"

McCoy cut him off again "What about you, Sergeant? Any chance of children at all? Even from temporary relationships?"

The sergeant looked uncomfortable, a slow flush mounting to his cheekbones. "I…"

"It's important that we know" McCoy pressed.

A trapped look came into the sergeant's eyes.

"Don't answer that, Sergeant James." Ash's voice cut like a knife.

"Sir." James muttered.

Ash turned on Kirk. His voice was perfectly level but there was a cold rage in his eyes.

"Captain Kirk. I need to speak privately with my sergeant. Where can we go for a few moments?"

Kirk took a breath. "Of course. There's a smaller briefing room off this one. That door there." He pointed.

"Very good. Sergeant, wait there for me. I'll join you in a moment."

The sergeant nodded. "Sir". There was silence as he walked to the door.

As soon as it closed behind him, Ash turned to Kirk again.

"Captain Kirk. Sergeant James is under my command. If you or any of your people have any further questions for him about his personal life you will relay them through me, as his commanding officer. Is that clear?" His voice rose a notch as some of his anger leaked through his control. "My God! How can you expect him to answer questions like that in front of total strangers, including women?"

"I'm sorry Captain Ash." Kirk said quietly. "Please relay my apologies to Sergeant James." He shot a look at McCoy. "It won't happen again."

Ash nodded. "Thank you. Excuse me."

All eyes were on him as he limped his way to the door. After the door slid shut behind him all eyes shifted to the doctor.

"I believe there is a human saying, Doctor" Spock said. " 'Open mouth, insert foot.' Even a Vulcan would have known better."

"What would Vulcans know about it? They have no emotions." McCoy snapped.

"No, Doctor, but Vulcans have impecable manners." Spock said, calmly.

"Well" said Dr. Noel wryly. "This answers my concern about the Captain's loyalty to the sergeant. Though not in a way I'm happy to have seen. Dr. McCoy, I did mention the differences between their time and ours."

Kirk took a breath. "Dr. McCoy, can Nurse Chapel or one of the other doctors handle taking the blood samples you need?" If they're willing to give them after this, Kirk thought unhappily. He had the feeling that Uhura had hit on the answer, and that it was going to be vitally important to do those tests.

"Yes, of course."

"Good. Please arrange for that, and after the briefing, I'd like you and Mr. Spock to stay behind."

"Yes, Captain" McCoy muttered.

* * *

When Ash entered the smaller briefing room, James was waiting for him. Ash's rage at the doctor was only slightly abated. Sergeant James was a man in his 40s who had been in the army all his adult life. Of course there had to have been women, prostitutes if nothing else. However, to question a man as intensely reserved and private as Sergeant James about such things in front of a roomful of strangers was completely out of bounds.

"I'm sorry sergeant. I shouldn't have let that go so far. Kirk asked me to relay his apologies as well."

"Thank you, sir."

Ash rubbed his face. "What do you make of all this, Sergeant? It all sounds crazed. Insane energy creature-children snatching us away. History changing depending on if we live or die."

"I don't know, sir. It sounds barmy, sure enough. But what alternative is there to it being true?"

Ash sighed. "None that I can think of. So I suppose our only chance of getting home is to go along with them and answer their questions, and let them do their tests. I know I don't have any children lurking about." He laughed wryly. "Not much chance, there's only ever been three women, and one of them is Susan."

James shook his head. "I've been thinking. I've always tried to be careful. I didn't want to be leaving any fatherless bairns around, nor pick up anything nasty, either." He drew a deep breath. "I think it's a 'no' for me as well, sir."

"All right then. Are you ready to go back in there and let them take some blood?"

"Aye, sir. Away."

* * *

The room fell silent again as the two men reentered and took their seats.

"Captain Kirk" Ash said formally. "Neither Sergeant James nor I have any children at this point in our lives. When do you want to do this blood test?"

Kirk sighed in relief. "Immediately, I think, Captain Ash. Lt. Kyle, can you take them back to sickbay please? And then to their quarters. I think the Ambassadorial suite would be the best place, it has room for both of them. Dr. McCoy, you'll have the results by 0900 tomorrow?"

McCoy nodded.

"Then we'll continue this then. Mr. Kyle?"

"Yes sir" Kyle said. "This way, gentlemen."

"Doctor, Mr. Spock, stay please. Everyone else, dismissed."

They watched the rest of the crew file out, then Kirk turned to McCoy.

"I know that when an interesting problem comes up you can become involved in it to the exclusion of all else, Doctor. But please try to not to alienate the people who may be our only solution."

"Sorry, Jim" McCoy said. "It won't happen again. And I can try to make it up to them when I fix that boy's leg."

Kirk and Spock exchanged glances. Kirk had had a suspicion that McCoy would bring this up.

"You can't do that, Doctor. Not if we are to return them to their own time. We can't have him suddenly cured with no cause." Spock pointed out.

"Well then… I think he's in pretty much constant pain. I can at least end that."

Kirk shook his head. "Not even that, Bones. I'm sorry, but we have no idea what could upset the time line."

McCoy snorted. "How could ending his pain change history?"

"Dr. McCoy" Spock said gravely. "You of all people should remember how small an event, as little as deciding when to cross a street, can change world events."

McCoy winced at the reference to Edith Keeler's death. Spock went on, "In July of this year, London is going to be attacked again, with V1 rockets this time. The V2 rockets will follow in the fall. The V2s fly faster than the speed of sound, and the attacks occur at all times during the day, with no warning or time to get to shelter. Not many will penetrate Britain's defenses, but the only thing that will determine who will be killed by the ones that do is sheer luck, being in the right place at the right time, or the wrong place at the wrong time. And the difference of a few steps that being in constant pain or not being in constant pain make, could make the difference between life and death."

"Yes, but…" McCoy tried to interject.

Spock interrupted him. "That's only one possible example. Over the course of the Captain's potential life, the difference between being in pain or not could make changes that snowball beyond our imagining. You know we must do as little as possible to interfere with what must happen."

"If it turns out that they do have to stay here, then you can take care of it, Bones." Kirk said sympathetically. He knew how much McCoy hated seeinga hurt that he couldn't fix. "But for now, don't even mention the possibility to him."

"Yes Captain." McCoy muttered.

"All right then. Dismissed."

* * *

Author's footnote: If you want to see what the picture of Ash and his men was supposed to look like, before Wilkins let go of the dog, you can find it at the episode guide for Danger: UXB at epguides. com


	5. Chapter Five

While they were waiting for Nurse Chapel to take their blood samples, Ash absently got a fag out of his case. He was just about to light a match when his eyes met the nurse's, and her expression reminded him of what the doctor had said.

"Oh blast" he exclaimed, replacing it in his cigarette case. "Sorry, I forgot."

"I'm sorry" Chapel said. "But it's the air recycling, you know, and the fire control system, too."

Ash sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He didn't want to say anything, but he really needed a fag. It had been a long time.

"I know it's supposed to be hard giving them up" Chapel said sympathetically. "I can give you something to make it easier."

Ash was about to say no, but thought better of it. "What?" he asked dubiously.

"Wait a moment" the nurse said, and left the room. A moment later she was back with what looked like some slips of paper. "Here. Peel off the backing and stick the patch on bare skin somewhere on your upper arm. Leave it on all day, and replace it tomorrow. Didn't Dr. McCoy offer them to you?"

Ash shrugged. "He said something about 'patches' but he didn't explain. How do they work?"

"They have nicotine in them. That's what tobacco has that makes it addictive. If you're getting it absorbed through your skin from the patch, you don't need to smoke."

"Fiendishly clever." Ash smiled. "Not as satisfying though, I don't suppose."

"Probably not" Chapel sympathized. "But better than nothing. While I'm at it, Dr. McCoy left these for your leg." She handed him a bottle of pills. "They'll dissolve instantly. Just take one a day."

The pill was tasteless, and as promised melted away almost instantly.

"All right now" Chapel said cheerfully, "Let's get on with the tests. This won't hurt a bit."

After she was done, Ash said, "I would ask you how it works, but I don't suppose I would understand a word."

Chapel shook her head. "Not without a background in biochemistry, and even then I'd have to bring you up to date on three hundred years of developments. It's accurate, though." She smiled and held up the two labeled vials. "I'll just take these down to the lab."

"And" put in Lieutenant Kyle, who had been waiting, "I'm supposed to bring you down to your quarters. I can have your things sent down, or we can just carry them."

"We may as well carry it ourselves. Sergeant?"

"Aye sir." Together they gathered up the few items they had.

* * *

As Captain Kirk had ordered, Kyle brought them to the Ambassadorial suite. It had a living and office area, a bathroom, and two sleeping alcoves, a larger one, for the ambassador, and a smaller one, for, Kyle presumed, an attaché or valet. He showed them how the clothing replicators and sonic cleaners worked, and ran each of them up a set of plain black fatigues for sleeping in. "Not what you're used to, probably" he said apologetically, "But comfortable enough."

Sergeant James was scrutinizing himself in one of the mirrors. "Excuse me a moment, sir." he said and ducked into the bathroom. When he came out a moment later, Kyle saw his hair was damp and slicked flat.

"Sergeant James, would you like me to try and get you something for your hair?" Kyle asked, remembering what styles of the 1930s and '40s looked like.

"Aye, sir, if you can." James said, a note of gratitude in his voice. "I didn't care to ask, but I would appreciate it."

Kyle thought for a moment. "The trouble is, men's styles now don't use oil. But…" He had a sudden idea. "If you don't mind using something that's made for a woman, I think I have a friend who can help."

James looked dubious. "As long as it's not too flowery. I wouldn't want to smell like a nancy-boy."

It took Kyle a moment, but then the meaning clicked. "Oh. I'll see what I can do. But I wouldn't use that expression, sergeant, it might create bad feelings."

The sergeant gave him an odd look, but nodded.

Kyle went to the comm unit on the wall. "Lt. Kyle to Janice Rand." In his capacity as transporter chief, Kyle had responsibility for training the yeomen. From being his star pupil, Yeoman Rand had gone on to be a personal friend, and, he hoped, maybe something more.

"Rand here, hi Kyle, what's up?" Her cheery voice came through the speaker.

"You know that Captain Kirk has me showing Captain Ash and Sergeant James around, right?"

"I'd heard. Some people have all the luck."

"Well the sergeant needs something to smooth his hair down. I thought you might know the sort of thing. Do you have anything you could give him? But it can't smell to flowery."

"I don't know." Rand said teasingly. "Do I get to deliver it myself?"

"Are you off duty?"

"Yes, I am. For the rest of the day."

"Then bring whatever you have down to the Ambassadorial suite, and I'll introduce you to them both."

"Great! See you in a jiffy!"

* * *

Sergeant James looked around the rooms they had been assigned with approval. Of course the captain had the larger of the two sleeping areas, that went without saying. And he would just have to act as the captain's batman for the moment. Now if this lady friend of Lt. Kyle's had something that could keep his hair smooth, all would be as well as could be in the circumstances.

It was only a few moments before there was a soft chime from the door. Lieutenant Kyle opened it.

"Captain Ash, Sergeant James, I'd like you to meet Yeoman Rand."

"Pleased to meet you, Yeoman" Ash said politely.

"Yeoman." The sergeant nodded. Before anything else he noticed her hair. He eyed the involved basket-weave with something akin to awe, understanding why Kyle had turned to her for help. If whatever she used could keep that imposing structure together, it could keep his thinning hair under control too.

"Hi" the yeoman said cheerfully. "I've been wanting to meet you two since you came on board. Who needs to use this?" She held out a small jar.

"That would be me, thank you, Yeoman." James said gratefully. He sniffed at it with some trepidation, but was pleased to find it had only a slight tangy smell.

"I had the replicator whip me up a jar without scent." she said.

"Aye, that's fine. Thank you very much, Yeoman. Excuse me for a moment."

He soon had his hair restored to it's proper condition. Feeling much more himself, he rejoined the others. There he found Yeoman Rand talking about plans for their afternoon.

"Look Kyle, you can't just leave them here all day. What would they do? They can't read or watch or listen to anything that has the slightest risk of telling them something they shouldn't know, and that means anything that's less than three hundred years old!"

"Well then, what should we do?"

"We'll show them around the ship. Not places like engineering, that are only interesting if you know what everything is, and you can't explain anything because it's all things they shouldn't know. But there's places that are fun just on their own." She thought for a moment, then brightened. "I know! The botany lab!"

"The botany lab?" Kyle asked blankly.

"Sure. Sulu has all those weird plants. They'll never have seen anything like them before. And I can think of a few other places, after that."

So Sergeant James found himself following the others on a tour of the ship. He wasn't much for gardens himself, growing up as he had in the city of Glasgow. But even so, the he found the botany labs impressive. Ash, who had grown up with his aunt in the countryside in Surry, and did know something about plants gave a startled whistle when they walked in. It was a riot of strange growth. Some of the plants seemed more like animals, like the five leaved palm-tree like thing that Yeoman Rand said was named "Beaureguard". "It's Sulu's favorite" she explained, petting it. It made a noise like a cat purring.

They spent enough time in the lab that James was starting to worry about the Captain's bad leg. But Ash seemed to be standing comfortably, propped on his cane. Whatever the doctor had given him was working well enough.

He managed to catch Ash alone for a moment, as Kyle and Yeoman Rand bent over a particularly large red blossom together.

"Not exactly what you'd expect on a military ship, is it sir?" he asked, gesturing around.

Ash shrugged. "No, it's not." He glanced pointedly at Kyle and Rand. "Still, it seems to make them happy." The two men exchanged bemused smiles.

After the botany lab, Kyle turned to Yeoman Rand, who seemed somehow to have taken charge of the excursion.

"Well, now where?" he asked.

"I want it to be a surprise." Rand smiled. She whispered something in Kyle's ear. Kyle nodded in approval.

"That's a sight worth seeing, all right." he agreed. So they were off again. James was beginning to wish that Kyle had left them in their quarters, boring or not. Something any old soldier learned was how to nap whenever there was nothing else to do, and he was thinking a nap sounded good around now. He managed to catch Ash's eye with a "what now?" expression. Ash's look of polite resignation spoke volumes.

But when they finally arrived at their destination, James forgot any feelings of resentment he might have had.

"This is the observation deck" Rand said, leading them in.

"Good lord!" Ash murmured.

"That's something, right enough, sir" James murmured in awed response.

The dim room was huge. One entire wall was a window that looked out into… nothing. A nothingness that was blacker than the blackest night on earth, jeweled with stars that were brighter and harder than any he had ever seen before. There was no familiar twinkle to them, just a steady burn. Hanging below them was the bulk of what must be the planet they had been found on, and just rising over its edge was a blaze of light that had to be its sun.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Yeoman Rand asked. "Seeing this is why we go to space, some of us at least."

There were a number of small tables scattered around the room, and at several of them groups of people sat, either in quiet conversation, or drinking. Sergeant James wondered wistfully what they were drinking. After the past few days he could do with a pint or two. Or something stronger, by choice. And this room would be a place to drink them in, right enough.

Ash was staring at the window. "That's unbelievable." he swallowed. "Can we… can we see the sun from here?"

"Kyle and Yeoman Rand looked at each other. "I don't know." Kyle admitted. "If someone from navigation is here…"

"There's De Salle." Yeoman Rand said. "I'll bet he knows. Or can find out. Hey! De Salle!" she called.

A man at one of the tables looked up, and came over to them. James remembered having been introduced to him at the briefing earlier.

"Hi Kyle, Janice. Showing the guests around?" he turned to Ash and James. "Nice to see you again, gentlemen."

"Captain Ash was wondering if we could see Earth's sun from here." Yeoman Rand explained.

De Salle rubbed his head thoughtfully. "Let me think about that." he went over to one of the terminals and worked some controls rapidly.

"Yes, there we go. You're in luck, gentlemen. We can see it from this view." He pointed to the upper left corner of the window. "Up there. The dim yellow star, fourth over, and down about 20 degrees from the top."

They stared. It looked like a star like any other.

"It's so small" Ash murmured, half to himself.

"We're very far away." De Salle pointed out.

They stood looking at the scene for a few more minutes, silently. Then Ash asked "What's that window made of? It can't be glass."

"No it's transparent a….." Kyle stopped mid-word. "Sorry, that's another thing I don't think I should tell you."

Ash's lips pursed in irritation.

Yeoman Rand had been watching the interplay. "Maybe we should have dinner now" she broke in, changing the subject.

* * *

Janice Rand looked around the table. She was so happy Kyle had thought of asking her to help out. Even if it was her hair that had made him think of her. So there! to everyone who made fun of her involved weave. It had its uses after all, in this case letting her meet the visitors, and incidentally letting her be useful to Kyle, which was nice too. She smiled happily at him. He was deeply involved in a discussion with Captain Ash about life in London in his time. Sergeant James was watching with an amused expression, occasionally putting in a comment himself. De Salle, who had somehow added himself to the party, listened in.

They had had dinner, and now Kyle had convinced the replicators to come up with beer. Rand was not really a big beer drinker, but Ash and James seemed happy with it. This was the first time she had been out in the evening with Kyle. Did it count as their first date, she wondered. It was cute how that proper British reserve he always held on the surface fell away in the face of his enthusiasm.

"Hey guys!" Lt. Uhura's greeting broke into her reverie. The communications officer was standing over their table.

"Hey Uhura!" A voice came from somewhere across the room. "You going to sing for us tonight?"

"Yeah, come on Nyota!" called another voice.

Uhura smiled a dazzling smile but shook her head. "No, not tonight, boys." she called back.

"Aw come on, Uhura." Kyle broke in unexpectedly. "How about something nostalgic for our guests?"

"Gee, Kyle. I don't even think I know anything that would be appropriate."

"I'll bet you do. Come on, let's look."

Uhura let herself be led over to a terminal. Muffled comments drifted over to Rand's ears. "See, this is perfect. And you can even get accompaniment."

Uhura laughed. "All right, Kyle, you win. I'm convinced." She raised her voice. "Ok, guys. I'll sing." There was a small cheer.

"All right, ready?" Kyle asked. Uhura nodded. Kyle started the music. It was sweet and haunting. Uhura sang:

_"There'll be blue birds over_

_The white cliffs of Dover_

_Tomorrow, just you wait and see."_

Beside Rand, Ash breathed in, a catch in his throat. The sergeant listened raptly.

_"There'll be love and laughter_

_And peace ever after,_

_Tomorrow, when the world is free."_

Even Kyle looked a little misty, Rand noticed, surprised.

_"There'll be blue birds over_

_The white cliffs of Dover_

_Tomorrow, just you wait and see."_

Uhura ended to thunderous applause.. Kyle wiped his eyes, then noticing Rand watching him, smiled crookedly and shrugged. "It's been a long time since I had shore leave home." he explained.

Uhura pulled up a chair to their table and sat down.

"That was beautiful, Lieutenant." Ash said enthusiastically.

"That it was, ma'am." the sergeant added.

"Aw, thanks guys." De Salle handed her a glass, and she took a thankful sip.

"May I join you?" Ensign Chekov's cheerful Russian accent broke into the chatter.

"Sure, Pavel." Uhura moved over, giving him room to pull a chair between her and Kyle. Kyle performed introductions.

"I haf vanted a chance to meet you" Chekov said. "It is not every day we get to meet heroes."

"Heroes?" Ash laughed. "Well, thank you, Ensign, but I scarcely think…"

"All who fought in the war against Hitler were heroes." Chekov said with, Rand thought, uncharacteristic seriousness. "The Great Patriotic War, we call it. Twenty eight million dead in Russia, we do not forget this. Not even in three hundred years."

"Twenty eight.. million?" Ash whispered. "We knew losses on the Eastern Front were terrible, but… that many?"

"Chekov" Kyle put in warningly. "Watch what you tell them."

"All right, Kyle, I vill only say that every family in Russia had someone to mourn." Chekov said solemnly. "That is why I vant to drink a toast to men who were actually there to oppose Hitler."

"Oh look, is that really necessary?" Ash asked, embarrassment in his voice. The sergeant looked as though he might like to crawl under the table.

"Yes, it is." Chekov said firmly. "After all, toasting was a Russian inwenition."

"No it wasn't." De Salle muttered. Chekov gave him a dirty look, and pulled out a small bottle. "Does everyone haf a glass?" he asked around the table. There was some scurrying around but eventually everyone had a glass of vodka (Of course, Rand thought, what else would it be?)

Chekov stood and declaimed "To the men who fought the war that saved our world from destruction, so that we could be here, free and alive tonight. The ones who lived, the ones who died, but most importantly, the ones we actually have here now. Za vashe zdorovye!"

Everyone drank. Rand coughed and looked at her glass in surprise. "Chekov? How strong is this?"

"Strong as Russian winter!" Chekov said smiling. "100 proof, the good stuff." Rand decided she was glad it was a small bottle and a large group, or else she could see the evening disintegrating rapidly.

"Well, on behalf of Sergeant James and myself, thank you all for making us feel very welcome." Ash said, lifting his glass in turn.

* * *

Captain Kirk, with Mr. Spock at his side, walked up to the table where his crew were entertaining their visitors. Lt. Uhura was the first to notice his presence.

"Hello Captain." She smiled. Everyone paused and looked up.

"Hello Lieutenant. I see everyone's been keeping our visitors busy."

"Ve are toasting the heroes." Chekov said. "Would you like to join us, Captain?" He held up his bottle of vodka.

"No thank you, Ensign" Kirk demurred.

"I've made sure they haven't been told anything they shouldn't know." Kyle said. "Except for Chekov's twenty eight million dead Russians." he added honestly, with a dirty look at the young ensign. Chekov shrugged.

"I think that is acceptable." Spock said gravely.

"All right people." Kirk said. "Mr. Spock and I want to have a private word with Captain Ash and Sergeant James. Just for a few moments, then you can come back."

There were murmured assent from everyone and the table cleared. Kirk noticed with some amusement that Chekov made sure he took the bottle with him.

He and Spock sat down. "So have my crew been keeping you busy?" he asked.

Ash nodded. "It's been quite interesting. Though not educational." he added wryly. "It seems as though every other question I ask is something we shouldn't know."

"I'm sorry about that." Kirk paused, then went on. "In a sense, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I feel we owe you an apology and an explaination for seeming to take your lives lightly. It's not that we don't care if you live or die, it's that we know, from experience, how very fragile the course of history can be. How even such a small thing as one person's life can change the whole world."

"One life? Winston Churchill's maybe. But ours?" A note of disbelief was in ash's voice.

Kirk nodded. "Let me tell you a story. Your presence here isn't the first time we have had to deal with the effects of time travel. We've accidentally found ourselves in the past on more than one occasion, a result of effects predicted by Einstein as long ago as your time. In addition, we've found artifacts of other civilizations that have the power to move people through time. One of them, the Guardian of Forever, is vastly powerful, able to show the past of any planet and put people into any point in its history." Kirk sighed. "If it wasn't for Grylock isolating us here, we could just take you two to the researchers on the Guardian's planet and let them worry about you."

He pause again, then went on. "But anyway, when we first discovered the Guardian of Forever, I led a landing party to the planets surface. One of the crew, I won't say who, ended up accidentally going through the Guardian's portal, to somewhere in Earth's past. And… time changed. Just like that. Those few of us on the planets surface were protected, but the Guardian told us everyone else was gone. Our ship had never existed, our whole world was destroyed. Gone." He paused again, remembering the horror and lonliness of that time.

Ash swallowed. "What happened?"

"We knew we had to follow the crewman to stop whatever he had done. Mr. Spock and I went through the portal together. We ended up somewhere in the United States, in 1930."

Ash looked at Spock. "That must have caused some problems." he said dryly.

"I wore a woollen cap pulled down over my ears." Spock said. "I think my color was usually ascribed to bad health and malnutrition. It was the so-called 'Great Depression' after all, and we were in a slum area."

"Mr. Spock tracked down the point of the time dissruption. " Kirk said. "It was a woman. A relief worker. She ran a soup kitchen. She was… beautiful. She had two potential futures. In one she became famous. Talked to President Roosevelt in the White House. In the other… she died. That year. Unknown, except by the people she had helped. And that was the only thing our missing crewman had done. Saved the life of a gentle, kind woman who had helped him"

Kirk faded off, unable to continue. Spock picked up the story. "Later we reconstructed what happened in that alternative time line, where she lived. She was a pacifist, and believer in international justice. The movement she started led to the United States making important trade concessions to Japan over the course of the '30s. As a result the Japanese did not attack Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, so the United States did not declare war on Japan. More importantly from the point of view of your world's fate, Germany did not declare war on the United states four days later. There was no excuse for the United States to enter the war. Her movement also pressed for strengthening the Neutrality Acts. President Roosevelt was not able to get the Lend-lease Acts through Congress. The aid the United States was able to give Britain and the Soviet Union was minimal. Without aid, Britain fell quickly. The prediction of your Winston Churchill came true. You fought them on the beaches, in the fields, in the cities… but eventually you lost."

Ash stared in horror. Spock's quiet voice went on.

"Then Hitler turned against the Soviet Union in force. Without British and American help, not even the bulk of the Russian landmass could save them. Moscow fell, and Hitler ruled Europe."

Kirk picked up again. "Then Hitler went after the British government-in-exile that had been established in Canada. Attacking North America finally got the United States involved, but by then it was to late. German had been working on…" Kirk caught himself before he mentioned the atomic bomb or V2 rockets. ".. on some particularly powerful weapons. Given the additional time, they developed them, and used them. Canada and the United States were utterly destroyed."

Spock picked up again. "The rest of this is only a guess, but given the nature of Hitler's Germany, probably correct. The Third Reich lasted a hundred or so years, but eventually internal discension tore it apart. By then their weapons were even more powerful. They used them on each other, and destroyed their own world completely."

"We didn't know all of this then, of course. All we knew was that if Edith lived, Germany won the war." Kirk continued bleakly. "But there was a complication. By the time we learned even that much, we had been there several months subjective time. I had become - involved - with Edith. We were in love…" He looked hard at Ash. "Then the day came she was supposed to die. I stood and watched her die in front of me, run over by a delivery wagon. I even prevented the missing crewman from saving her life. And then we were back on the Guardian's planet. Only moments had passed. Time was restored." Kirk put his hands over his eyse.

"I'm sorry" Ash said quietly.

"You understand why I'm telling you this? Not only to explain how one life can make such a difference. But also, I've already paid to much to keep time in its course. I won't have it destroyed at this point."

"I understand" Ash agreed.

There was silence for a few moments. Kirk was millions of miles and hundreds of years away, remembering Edith.

Spock broke into his thoughts at last. "Captain, if we are finished, I believe that some of the crew wish to continue visiting with our guests."

"Yes, certainly." Kirk pulled himself back to the present, and motioned over the waiting group. "I'll leave you all to a good evening then. " He stood to go. "Coming, Mr. Spock?"

* * *

Ash thought about what Kirk and Spock had said after they left. The vision of the changed history was chilling. In that time-line what had happened to him, and his family, and his men? Images passed through his mind, of Nazi soldiers in his aunt's peaceful garden, of the quiet street where he was billeted with the Bakers, shelled and laid waste, of his section in actual combat, street to street, house to house, like Stalingrad. Twenty-eight million Russians dead winning the war, what would have been the death-toll of British in losing?

He was so caught up in his own thoughts that until Mr Scott spoke, he hardly noticed the group of crew people returning, with some additions.

"Sergeant James, as one Scotsman to another, I thought you might like a taste of home." The engineer brought out a bottle, and showed it to James.

The sergeant's eyes widened. "Glenfiddich, 50 years old! That's remarkably kind of you, sir."

"A birthday present from my sister." Mr. Scott said modestly. "I was savin' it for a special occasion, and what better than this?" Almost reverently he poured for everyone at the table.

More people drifted over, and someone pulled up another table. Ash lost track of the introductions, and started simply smiling in response. He saw that Sergeant James was deep in conversation with Mr. Scott. It was unusual to see him so extroverted, but Ash was glad to see he seemed to be enjoying himself.

Time passed. Mr. Scott's bottle was emptied, as Ensign Chekov's had been. Eventually Ash started thinking about the next day's briefing, and that maybe it was time to get back to their quarters.

* * *

Sergeant James had done his best to take care of Captain Ash, but Ash hadn't wanted much help.

"I don't want to be fussed over, Sergeant." he'd said rather snappishly.

"Well, sir, with Mully not here, some one has to be your batman.

"Look, I lived quite successfully for most of my life without a valet, I can take care of myself for a few days. If you really insist, you can help me get my uniform on straight tomorrow."

James' mouth set in irritation. It upset his sense of propriety. But he had to be satisfied with it.

As he settled himself into his own bed, James mused about his luck. One of the first things a soldier learned was that you saluted the uniform, not the person in it. If the person inside the uniform was worth the salute, that was an extra blessing.

He remembered the first time he had met Ash, the newly commissioned second lieutenant he had been then, almost young enough to be the sergeant's own son, terrified of the job he'd been assigned yet still determined to see it through. James wouldn't have given much for his chances of survival. In fact, he knew the men of the section were betting heavily against Ash surviving his first bomb. It almost broke the sergeant's heart to see such young lads killed like that.

He had offered to supervise Ash's first attempt. It was when Ash had firmly declined and sent James back to the safety point that the sergeant had felt the first stirrings of respect for him. It was obvious that the white-faced, shaking Ash expected to die, and didn't want to take the sergeant with him.

But Ash hadn't died, and unlike his unfortunate predeccessor, Lt. Atkinson, he had eventually won the respect of all his men.

Now here they were in this strange time and place, and while Sergeant James wouldn't have wished this on anyone, he had to admit he was glad he wasn't alone, and that it was Ash he was with.

"Sir?" The suite had been arranged cleverly, to allow for privacy yet still make talking betweent he two occupants easy.

"Yes, Sergeant?"

"What are we going to do if they won't send us home?" James hoped the captain understood what he was saying behind the words.

"I don't know, Sergeant. But we'll be all right. I'm sure they'll find some niche for the two of us somewhere." Yes, Ash had heard the unasked question, "Will we stay together, sir?"

"In a museum, belike. Charge twopence to come see us."

Ash laughed at that, then grew more serious. "Wait though. Here's a thought. If there's still a Britian, then there's still a British Army, or some successor to it. We'll just report for duty. Let them worry about what to do with us."

It was the sergeant's turn to laugh then. "They'll be surprised to find they owe us 300 years back pay."

"Do you suppose they'd actually come through with it all? We could buy Windsor Castle to retire in."

"I'd rather Buckingham Palace, if it's all the same to you, sir. I've never been one for the countryside."

"What, you can't see yourself riding out to with the hounds?"

The sergeant laughed again. "Nay sir, that I can't."

"Well then, we'll make it Buckingham Palace. Now, good-night."

"Aye, sir. Good night."

* * *

Authors note: _White Cliffs of Dover_ was written by Nat Burton in 1941.


	6. Chapter Six

"Right then, sir, you'll do" the sergeant said, giving Ash a final once-over. They were waiting for Kyle to summon them for the briefing.

"Thank you, Sergeant" Ash said brusquely, relieved that he was finally finished. "Nothing to do now except wait."

He wished his crippled leg allowed him to pace, and settled for drumming his fingers instead. Ash was not by nature patient, and being dependant on his unwanted hosts didn't sit well with him. He was tired of the uncertainty. He wanted to know if he and the sergeant were going home.

He thought again, as he had the first night on the planet's surface, of what would happen if they weren't. His fiancée, Susan Mount, was already widowed, and she had seen Ash almost killed in front of her. What would losing him this way do to her? And the men of his section. Not so much to them to lose him (though he knew Mully would grieve) but what would happen to them without the sergeant? Who else could keep Wilkins' larcenous impulses from getting out of hand? Who would keep the volatile "Tiny" Powell out of trouble?

"Sergeant, if we don't get back, and Corporal Horrocks was promoted to your place, could he keep Powell under control?"

The sergeant turned a worried look towards him. "I don't know, sir. I've been wondering myself. Powell's always been a problem. I've always had to keep a weather-eye on him. And there's Mully. I've worried about some of the older men being a bad influence on the lad. That's why I nudged him, so to speak, into volunteering to be your batman. You had to be a better influence on him than that dirty lecher Baines."

Ash laughed shortly. Baines was a notorious ladies-man.

There was a moody silence for a few moments. Then the sergeant said "But we may be worrying for naught. Mayhap they'll tell us today they're sending us home."

Ash snorted. "I'd like to believe that. But based on us having descendants here? What's the chances of that?"

"Well sir, I don't much fancy my chances of having descendants at all. But surely you and Mrs. Mount are planning on a family some day?"

Ash shrugged. "After the war I suppose. We hadn't talked about it yet."

"Well, then, sir."

* * *

Captain Kirk looked around the assembled officers. Lt. Leslie had the com, and Sulu was present this time in case they needed his navigational expertise. McCoy's tests had taken longer to run than expected, so Kirk himself didn't know the results yet.

"All right people, let's begin." He decided to start with what would probably be the fastest report, to get it out of the way. "Mr. Spock, has anything new turned up in the historical records?"

"Negative, Captain. At this point I believe we have exhausted the limited data that we can access while isolated here. If there are to be any new revelations, they will have to come from Dr, McCoy's investigations." Possibly only Kirk knew the Vulcan officer well enough to hear the annoyance in his voice at that admission.

"Why Spock, I never thought I'd hear you admit I have any use at all." McCoy smiled. He was plainly set on milking the situation for all he could.

"Doctor, do you have a report?" Kirk asked patiently.

"Yes I do. We ran comparisons of DNA from Captain Ash and Sergeant James with every human member of the crew. And, in fact we came up with one positive match." The doctor paused and grinned, allowing his audience's tension to rise.

"Well, Doctor?" Kirk pressed.

"Not that we couldn't have guessed anyway." McCoy continued, his smile widening.. "Allow me to be the first to congratulate you, Sergeant James. It's an engineering officer! Mr. Scott, your long-lost great-granddaddy."

There was a buzz of conversation. Ensign Chekov's voice burst over the intercom. "Vy am I not surprised by zis?"

Another voice, Kirk thought he recognized someone from ship's maintenance, came over the intercom. "If you expected it, you should have got in on the pool, Chekov." There was a note of triumph in the voice, and Kirk suspected that whoever it was had been a winner.

Meanwhile, both Sergeant James and Mr. Scott seemed to have been startled into speechlessness, and were simply staring at each other, Scott in delight, and James in stunned disbelief.

Captain Ash also had a look of surprise, but he pulled himself together quickly. "Congratulations, Sergeant" he said cheerily, then to Kirk he added "I assume this means we can go home?"

Kirk smiled. He was glad the dilemma had been resolved so easily. "Yes, Captain Ash. I don't want to do without my Chief Engineer."

Christine Chapel had entered the room, and now she whispered something to McCoy. McCoy's eyes widened for a moment, and his grin turned into what Kirk could only call a smirk. He murmured something back to Chapel, who nodded and left. McCoy turned back tot he table where James and Scotty were still staring each other, just as the sergeant finally whispered "I'm going to have a child?"

"Well at least one, at some point." McCoy agreed cheerfully. "And" he added more loudly, "Nurse Chapel has just brought me some more information. It seems we have another match."

That got him the room's attention. "We can credit Nurse Chapel for this" he continued. "I programmed the computer to check the human crewmembers, and it followed instructions exactly. Nurse Chapel thought of going further."

The doctor smirked again and turned towards Captain Ash. Kirk had a sudden feeling he knew exactly where this was heading, though the thought astonished him.

"Captain Ash, I'm not sure if I should congratulate you or commiserate, but... it's a science officer!"

All eyes turned towards Mr. Spock. Spock tilted up an eyebrow. "Indeed. I am... gratified to learn of the relationship."

Ash's mouth fell open. His eyes were wide. "How... how is that possible?" he stuttered.

"Obviously through his mother's line" the doctor said. He was plainly overjoyed with the reaction to his announcement.

"I am only half Vulcan, Captain Ash." Spock explained. "My father was ambassador to Earth when he meet my mother."

The anonymous voice on the intercom broke in again. "Now that's one I don't think anyone had bet on."

Another voice. "Speak for yourself... I won!"

Kirk sighed. "This is the Captain speaking. Please stop jamming the air with these outbursts. And, by the way, if I find that any of this pools activity was conducted during duty hours, the offenders are going to find themselves facing extra duty scrubbing out the holds. Is that understood?"

"Sorry captain." "Yes sir." There was a chorus of acknowledgement, then silence.

Kirk turned his attention back to the table. "All right people, now that we know that Captain Ash and Sergeant James both had children conceived after May 24th, 1944, it's obvious we need to return them. So our next priority is how to do so. Any ideas, Mr. Spock?"

Spock, impassive despite the revelation, steepled his fingers in thought. "Obviously we can not just leave this place. As soon as we leave Grylock's 'pocket universe', we will re-enter a time line we now know to have been altered. Unlike our experience with the Guardian of Forever, where our proximity to the Guardian sheltered the landing party from the effects of the time change, in this situation there would be nothing that we know of to prevent this ship from becoming similarly altered to conform with that time line."

"In other words, Spock, you and Mr. Scott might simply... cease to exist?"

"More than that, Captain. Even if both Captain Ash and Sergeant James have only one child each, over the course of three hundred years, one person can leave a great many descendants. Not just Mr. Scott and myself, but every other person descended from the Captain and Sergeant, all the way back to the twentieth century, will cease to have ever existed. We have no idea how many people that adds up to, nor what contributions to history they may have made, nor what disruption will result to history as a result. The results might be completely unrecognizable."

"I... see." Kirk said thoughtfully.

Captain Ash had been listening. "Well, then, can't you go back in time to before Grylock altered things, and then leave here? If he hasn't altered it yet, and you put us back before he does..." He trailed off. "Does that make any sense?"

Spock tilted an eyebrow again. "Indeed it does, Captain Ash." He turned to Kirk. "I believe Captain Ash has found our solution. If we go back in time here, back to before Grylock removed Captain Ash and Sergeant James, there should be no reason why we should not be able to leave this area, return to Earth, and then replace them."

"Bravo, Captain Ash. It's good to see Spock didn't get all his brains from his father's side of the family." McCoy quipped.

"Indeed, Doctor. My mother was a teacher when she met my father, and is known for her exceptional intelligence and perceptiveness. After all, she married my father." Spock agreed, dead pan.

"Gentlemen, please." Kirk sighed in exasperation. "Mr. Scott, what about it? Can we go back to 1944 here, and then travel to Earth?"

Scotty seemed still lost in contemplation of Sergeant James. He looked up, startled. "Sir?"

Kirk sighed again. "Mr. Scott. Can we travel back in time 1944 here and then proceed to Earth?"

"Oh, aye. There's no reason why it would be any more difficult. As to traveling back to earth, well, it's not my department to know what was going on in this sector of space 300 years ago, but I doubt we'll run into anything we can't handle."

"Though" Mr. Spock broke in, "If we do 'run into' anything, we must not 'handle' it, for to do so would run the risk of changing some other race's history."

"Aye, there's that. But my engines will be up to the task of running away, if that's all we can do."

"Very good." Kirk said. "Now, about the time travel process itself. Spock?"

"There are two possible methods we could use in this situation. The slingshot method is too imprecise, and requires more of a running start than we may have available to us here. Therefore I recommend the anti-matter intermix cold implosion method."

"The so-called 'Riley Effect'." Sulu said with a chuckle.

"Hey!" Lieutenant Riley's voice broke in over the intercom. "That's no fair! It wasn't my fault, it was that damn contaminated water!"

"Lt. Riley" Kirk snapped. "Didn't you hear what I just said about unofficial interference on the intercom?"

"Sorry, sir."

"Just be glad he wasn't singing 'Kathleen' this time, sir." Sulu joked.

"Hey!" Riley protested again.

"Mr. Sulu." Kirk said ominously.

"So, Sulu, foiled again." Uhura said cheekily.

"Touché." Sulu replied, dead pan.

"If my senior officers are finally finished with this, can we please get back to business?" Kirk growled. He realized that the banter served a useful purpose in reducing tension, but enough was enough.

"Yes, sir." "Sorry, sir."

"Mr. Spock, you were saying you recommend the antimatter cold intermix formula?"

"Yes, Captain. We can then withdraw to a safe distance from the planet, shut down the engines, allow time to cool, and restart using the intermix formula by the end of the day. Given the extreme speeds attained with that method, we can be at Earth by some time tomorrow."

"Some time tomorrow? That's rather imprecise for you, isn't it, Spock?" Dr. McCoy queried snippily.

"There are simply to many variables in the situation to be more precise, Doctor." Spock replied calmly. "However, it is not impossible we could have Captain Ash and Sergeant James restored to their proper place by tomorrow evening."

Ash and James exchanged startled looks. "That soon?" Ash breathed.

"Yes, Captain Ash." Kirk said. "After we have the correct coordinates, we can beam you down immediately after Grylock has taken your earlier selves."

"I would suggest waiting until we see if Grylock used the cover of an explosion to take them." Spock said gravely. "Captain Ash, were you and the sergeant within visual range of anyone else at the time Grylock removed you?"

"No. We were inside the building. Even outside, the rest of the section were at the safety point, around the corner of another building."

"So no one should be able to see you disappear and reappear?"

Ash nodded thoughtfully. "And then" he said, "It will be up to us."

"How will you handle it, Captain Ash?" Kirk asked.

Ash glanced at the sergeant, who shrugged.

"Captain Kirk, am I correct that you have no way to know if Grylock is watching us now?"

"Yes, that's so."

"And no way to know what he may have the power to do to that bomb?"

"Affirmative." Spock agreed.

"Then, with all due respect, I think the less I say about it now the better."

"Logical." Spock said approvingly.

Kirk nodded. "Very well." he agreed. "We will leave it in your capable hands. Well, then people, since our course is decided, let's get to it. Mr. Spock, you and Mr. Sulu plot an orbit that will keep us well out of danger. Mr. Scott, be ready to shut the engines down on my orders."

"Sergeant James." Mr. Scott said, hesitantly, "Would you and Captain Ash care to come down to the engine room?"

James and Ash once again exchanged looks. Ash gave an almost imperceptible nod, and it was he who answered. "We would be honored, Mr. Scott. If there's nothing that we can't be allowed to see?"

Scotty turned almost pleadingly to Kirk. Kirk realized it meant a lot to the engineer to be able to show his beloved engines to this newly discovered family member. "As long as you don't tell them anything specific about the technology, Mr. Scott."

"Aye, sir," Scotty replied with a relieved smile. He lead them out of the briefing room. At a signal from Kirk, Kyle followed along behind.

After they had gone, Spock steepled his fingers thoughtfully. "Fascinating." he murmured.

"What's that, Mr. Spock?" Kirk asked.

"The communication between our two guests."

"Oh, you noticed that too, Spock?" Uhura put in. "Dr. Noel and I were talking about it last night."

"What?" Kirk asked, puzzled.

"The way they communicate without speaking." Spock explained.

"It's what I said before." Dr. Noel spoke for the first time that day. "It's a different set of rules. They can't freely talk together or joke in public because of their difference in rank. Yet, as we've seen, they arefriends. So they've learned to make body language and facial expressions fill in."

"What, for instance, you and Mr. Spock would simply say to each other" Uhura explained, "They express nonverbally. It's, well..., Mr. Spock is right, it's fascinating."

Kirk sighed once again. "While I'm sure the three of you would love to jointly write a paper on them, right at the moment I'd like us to concentrate our efforts on getting them back home. So, Mr. Spock, if you and Mr. Sulu could get busy?"

"Immediately, sir."

* * *

Ash was both fascinated and disapointed by the engine room, fascinated because there was so much strange, new and interesting, but ultimetly disapointed because there was nothing there that he could recognize, and he knew that even if he asked questioned, either no one would be allowed to answer, or he wouldn't understand any answers he could get. But the sergeant had wanted to come, to see more of this person who was the utterly unexpected evidence that he would some day have a family. Ash wanted to let him have that opportunity. He smiled politely and quietly kept to the back of the party. To his great relief, however, it wasn't long before there was a call from Kirk.

"Mr. Scott. Our orbit is laid in. Commence engine shut-down procedure."

"Aye sir." Mr. Scott responded. There was a flurry of activity.

"Engines are powered down." Mr. Scott finally said. He added in a murmur, almost to low to hear, "Sweet dreams, my darlin's."

"Well done, Mr. Scott. Since it will be some time before they've cooled enough for the restart, would you and our guests like to join Mr. Spock and me in the rec. room while we wait?"

Mr. Scott looked questioningly at Ash and James. "Well gentlemen?" Ash nodded.

And so Captain Ash found himself and James seated at a small table over lunch with Kirk, Spock and Mr. Scott, the ever-present Kyle having been dismissed to attend to some postponed duties of his own.

Ash watched Mr. Spock dubiously. Even, or perhaps especially, since the morning's revelations, he was uncomfortable with his inhuman presence.

"So, Captain Ash, it looks as though we may have you home tomorrow." Kirk began. "I'm sure you're looking forward to it."

Ash nodded. "Not that everyone hasn't been very friendly. But this isn't our place."

"We've enjoyed having you as our guests." Kirk agreed. "But I know you both have important jobs waiting."

"Yes, about that, Captain Kirk. It's very gratifying that all of your crew seem to be so familiar with our time, but it's puzzling, too. Mr. Kyle said something about our war being one of the few with clearly defined good and evil sides, but that really doesn't explain it, and I think he was being discrete. Unless you have a whole ship full of amateur historians, it's still 300 years in your past, so why does it seem so important to you all?

Kirk looked over at Spock, who shrugged noncommittally. "Fair enough, Captain." Kirk said. "It seems like it's so important to us because the twentieth and twenty-first centuries are historically very important to us."

"You see" Spock explained, "Once sociologists had the option of studying other intelligent species, it was discovered that most of them start out with a primative stage, aggressive not only towards other species but towards their own.

"As technology develops, they reach the point where they must find a way to deal with that internal aggression or destroy themselves. That period in a species history is usually prolonged and violent. Most historians agree that the human race went throught that process during the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. By the end of your war, Captain, the human race will have the beginings of the technology that could have destroyed it. History as we know it says that didn't happen. But at the time it was by no means certain, as our experience with Edith Keeler showed. If circumstances had allowed the wrong side to win your war, it would have eventually lead to the death of the human species. Over the next century and a half there are other turning points where the same thing could have happened."

"You're saying that this war isn't going to bring world peace either." Ash stated bitterly.

"Does anyone really think it will?" Kirk asked gently. "If I remember correctly, it was the previous war that was called 'The War to End All Wars'. But ultimately the human race does survive, and we here are the result."

"That's comforting I suppose." Ash sighed. "We won't live long enough to see the happy ending though."

"No. But it's not constant warfare, either. You have some good years ahead as well."

"That's good to know." Ash said, and the sergeant nodded agreement with him. There was a moment's pause, then Ash continued curiously "So how do other races handle this change? If there's no internal aggression, does that mean there's no more war?"

Kirk shook his head. "No two species have reached the same solution. Some go totally pacific, while others simply externalized their aggression, and created expansionist empires. And there's all variations in between." He smiled. "It makes for... a pretty lively galaxy."

Mr. Scott had been listening quietly, but now he broke in. "Beggin' your pardon, gentlemen, but I think I'll have to be going now. There's some things I need to check on with my engines."

Kirk nodded. "Carry on." Mr. Scott made his farewells and left.

"It is almost time for the restart, Captian." Spock said to Kirk. "Perhaps our guests would like to be present on the bridge to observe."

"Yes, consider yourselves invited." Kirk smiled.

"I think we'll take you up on that offer, Captain Kirk." Ash agreed.

* * *

The tension on the bridge was thick enough to be palpable to a telepath like Spock. He understood the reasons for his human crewmates' emotions, but even so he found the close press of their thoughts disturbing. He forced himself into a Vulcan mentaldiscipline to block them out. There was no real risk involved in the process, now that the formula had been tested, but it was still rarely done, and of course in this situation there was the additional factor of the potential for interference by the mysterious entity Grylock. Spock and Kirk had discussed the matter, and agreed that since there was no way to predict what Grylock would do, and no way to counter anything that he did do, the most logical course was to proceed without taking him into consideration. While it was easy to act that way, Spock realized the humans had a harder time shutting those fears out.

The two human time travelers were obviously impressed by the sight of the bridge. Spock found himself increasingly studying the young Captain Ash. Intellectually, Spock was, of course, perfectly aware of his human heritage. But he prefered to keep it submerged. This wasn't, he considered, any sort of snub to his mother. It was, after all, as much her decision as his father's that his genetics should be more Vulcan than human and that his upbringing should be as a Vulcan. In fact, was he not honoring his mother by honoring her choice to have as close to a pure Vulcan child as possible?

But confronted by this proof of his human ancestry, this demonstration that not only were his mother and her family human, but that his human heritage went back as far as his Vulcan heritage, that he was not, in fact, a rootless scion grafted onto Vulcan stock, but a combination of two peoples equally old and honorable, this left him slightly disoriented.

Not that Captain Ash seemed inclined to press the relationship. If anything, he seemed more disconcerted than anyone else.

"Mr. Spock." Captain Kirk's voice broke into his reverie and Spock instantly pushed his thoughts away. "Is the formula ready?"

"Yes sir. I have fed the neccessary ratios to Mr. Scott in engineering." A human might have found it ironic that the two people most involved in returning the misplaced travelers to their time, Spock, who had worked out the formula, and Mr. Scott, who would implement it, were the two who were most closely connected by ties of blood to those travelers.

Kirk pushed the switch for the intercom. "Mr. Scott, are you ready?"

"Aye, sir. Whenever you give the word."

Kirk looked around the bridge. "Is everyone ready?" There was a chorus of affirmatives. "Mr. Scott, you may proceed."

"Aye sir. Commencing engine restart."

There was a hum and throb that rose to a painful whine, and a sensation of increased gravity or inertia, and for a moment it seemed as though the bridge, the ship, the entire universe were transparent and spread out thin. It would take a poet, a human poet, to do justice to describing this effect, Spock thought distantly.

And then it was over. To all appearances the bridge was normal, and the ship seemed to travel normally through space. Only the backwards registering of the chronometers gave the lie to that impression.

"Captain Ash, Sergeant James." Kirk said. "Welcome to the experience of time travel."

* * *

It had not, Ash thought later, after dinner, been quite what he expected.

Now he and the sergeant sat, as the night before, with Kyle and some of the other crew members. Ash found he was able to enjoy himself more than the previous evening, now that he knew they were en route home. If only the mysterious and unpredictable Grylock didn't intervene again. Ash had his own thoughts on what he was going to do to, he hoped, thwart Grylock's plan for the sergeant and himself, but it wouldn't help these people, and Ash felt badly about that. Kirk and his people were trapped in a hopeless situation as far as Ash could see, because even after Ash and James were returned, Grylock could, and certinly would, simply set them another task which Kirk would be unable to refuse. Kirk and his crew had to be aware of that, yet they were, to all appearances, entirely focused on the problem of getting Ash and James home.

Mr. Scott came over to the table, and sat next to Sergeant James.

"I thought you might like to see some family pictures." he said, almost shyly, to the sergeant.

James brightened, and smiled the full, dazzling smile that Ash could only remember seeing a few times in all the years he had known him.

"Aye, that I would, very much."

Ash watched them for some time, enjoying the sergeant's obvious delight in the discovery of his family. Without realizing it, he found he had reached a decision. he finished the last of his drink, then turned to James and Mr. Scott.

"Excuse me for interupting, gentlemen, but I'm going to make my excuses now. Sergeant, I'll see you later back in our quarters."

"Aye, sir."

"Oh and Sergeant." Ash smiled a small sideways smile. "Don't be up to late. Remember, we have a busy day tomorrow."

The sergeant smiled in return. "Aye sir."

Ash found Kyle involved in a conversation with Yeoman Rand.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant Kyle, but could you provide me with some directions?"

"Certainly Captain. Where do you want to go?"

* * *

Mr. Spock was meditating in his quarters whe the soft chiming told him there was someone at his door.

"Enter." he called, turning to face his visitor.

He had assumed it would be Kirk, because he didn't get many other visitors. It was unanticipated when the door opened to show Captain Ash.

"Captain Ash. This is unexpected."

"I thought that, since with any luck we'll be gone tomorrow, this would be our last chance to talk. If Dr. McCoy is right and you are my great-something grandson, it seems we should at least know each other. I admit, you aren't what I expected my descendants to be like, but..." He shrugged.

Spock, for once, felt himeslf short of words. Finally he said, "I have been brought up to think more about my father's people and heritage than my mother's. When my father's race reached that point of change that we discussed earlier, they handled it by submerging their emotions and becoming a people of pure logic. I do not know how to have a "family moment", getting to know you. However, if you wish, I can show you pictures of my mother and some of her family."

"Yes. I would like that."

Spock took his picture viewer out of his bureau. His mother Amanda had sent it to him. Vulcans did not usually take family pictures. Their perfect memories made such items of sentiment superflucious . But Amanda, in a sentimental mood, had made the album of pictures for her son, and he had kept them, even, occasionally, looking at them, although he knew it was illogical.

"My mother prepared this for me." Spock told Ash. "It has pictures of her family and my father's." He set it to the first picture. "My mother, Amanda."

Ash studied the picture. "She looks a little like Susie." At Spock's quizzical look he amended that to "Susan, my fiancée ." He reached into his uniform pocket and produced a small picture, a flat, old-fashoned photograph, and handed it to Spock.

"Fascinating. There is a slight resembalance." Spock agreed. "May I copy this for my mother? It will interest her."

Ash looked dubious. "How long would it take? I would want it back before we leave."

"I can do it immediately."

"Oh. Than certainly ."

"There are pictures here of the rest of her family as well, her siblings and their families, and her parents." Spock continued. "If you are interested...?"

Ash looked up from studying the picture of Amanda, with a smile. "Why yes, Mr. Spock, thank you."

* * *

Later that night, Sergeant James made his way back to his quarters to find that Captain Ash was there before him. The captain was still awake, studying his picture of Susan.

He looked up at the sergeant's entrance . "Ah. Good. You're back, Sergeant."

"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean to be so late" the sergeant said contritely.

Ash waved his apology aside. "You aren't late Sergeant, and I quite understand why you wanted some time with Mr. Scott. It's a strange feeling, isn't it, to find you have family so far away from everything you know?"

"Aye, sir." James agreed. He grew thoughtful. "He has a sister, too, sir, he showed me a picture of her, and her children..."

Ash nodded. "I went to see Mr. Spock. He had pictures of his mother and her family."

They were both silent for a moment. Then Ash went on thoughtfully. "I have to admit, I didn't like thinking the only record of my life was that damn newspaper article. You remember Ken Machen's fiancée, Angie?"

James nodded. They had met at Machen's funeral, after the lieutenant had been killed by a booby-trapped bomb. Later she had told Ash that she was pregnant with Machen's child, but since they weren't married, she would recieve no pension, and the section had taken up a collection to help her out.

"When she told me she was having his baby, I'll never forget what she said. 'I don't mind about the baby. It'll be a nice baby, something of Ken's to prove that he existed.' That's what I feel now. These people, they're proof that we existed. However long ago, no matter if we're remembered now or not."

James nodded. "I get your meaning, sir. Even if we're forgotten, something of us goes on. I never expected that. I'd given up any hope of having a family."

Ash smiled. "Well you'll have to start looking again, Sergeant, obviously."

James laughed. "Aye, sir."

"And now we'd both better turn in. We'll need to be alert tomorrow."


	7. Chapter Seven

Lt. Uhura watched the blue planet below swim in the viewscreen. It looked so peaceful from this distance that no one could guess that it was wracked by world wide conflict. From up here there was no sign of the flights of bombers, the fleets of warships. No boundaries to show how a madman had made a pretty good job of conquering huge areas of its surface. From this distance, the only violence was natural, the swirls of clouds where storms obscured the surface.

 

"It's beautiful." Captain Ash breathed. Beside him, Sergeant James made a small noise of agreement.

"There's a little over an hour and a half before you two need to be in position." Kirk said. "We need to find the coordinates to beam you down."

It was a simple but time consuming job that mostly fell to Uhura. Focus in on Europe, and find England. Focus in on England, find London. Now the damage done by the war wasn't hidden any more. Entire sections of the city lay ravaged, swaths of bombed-out rubble.

But there was no time for the history lesson. Focus in on London, locate the right section. Narrow in even further, streets, buildings...

"There. That's it." Ash said at last.

It was an open area, with one smallish building, a shed or something like it. From above it was obvious the roof had been broken in, and clumsily repaired.

"We think someone must have been using the building for illegal purposes, and they didn't dare report the bomb when it first fell. They just patched over the roof, and hoped they'd be lucky. Which they were." Ash sighed. "When they finished with the building they reported the bomb to the authorities anonymously. It hasn't been very high on our list of priorities, you can see how far away from everything it is, but finally we've had time to get to it. We set up the safety point up around the corner of that building there. " He pointed on the screen.

"All right gentlemen. I think you should get ready now." Kirk said. "When we see your earlier selves taken, we'll wait a few minutes to make sure the bomb isn't going to explode, and then send you down. Mr. Kyle, please show them the way to the transporter room."

Kyle nodded. "Yes, sir" He motioned the two to the lift door.

"Captain Ash, Sergeant James." Kirk continued. "It has been our very great privilege to have you visit us."

Ash nodded. "Thank you Captain. It has been... interesting... being here, and we appreciate all you and your people have done for us. " He turned to Spock. "Mr. Spock. Thank you for showing me your family." He paused. "Our family."

Spock raised his hand in the Vulcan salute. "Live long and prosper, Captain Ash." He added something Uhuru couldn't catch, in what she assumed was Vulcan.

Ash nodded again, and the three men left the bridge.

* * *

As they entered the lift, Kyle asked "You have all your gear, sir?" Ash glanced at the sergeant, who nodded.

 

They were silent most of the trip to the transporter room, but finally Ash broke the silence. "Thank you for shepherding us around these past days, Mr. Kyle. You've been more than helpful."

Kyle warmed to his praise. "Thank you sir. It was my pleasure."

"You know, I don't think you've ever said what your given name is."

Kyle flushed a little. He'd been hoping they wouldn't ask. "It's Winston, sir." He gave a little laugh. "Winston Churchill Kyle, actually. That's... another reason I've always been interested in the period."

Ash laughed. "Winston Churchill? Any relation?"

Kyle shrugged. "Maybe. Distantly. Family legend says yes, but so many records were lost in the war years of the twenty-first century, there's no way to tell any more."

They arrived at the transporter room, where Mr. Scott was waiting. "We'll do this one together, laddie." He said to Kyle. Kyle nodded, knowing Scott to be his only superior in using the transporter.

Uhura's voice came over the intercom. "Captain Ash's section just arrived. Time to get ready, boys."

Kyle showed them how to stand on the transporter pads.

"It's been an honor having you with us, gentlemen." Mr. Scott said. "Especially you, Sergeant." he added in lower tones.

"Aye." Sergeant James said. "It's been a privilege to meet you, sir."

"Captain Ash and Sergeant James have entered the building. We're tracking their readings on the sensors now." Lt. Uhura's voice came again.

They waited in silence.

"Sensors indicate that the building is now empty. They've been taken. Captain Kirk says to transport only on his order."

Ash turned to James. "Are you ready, Sergeant?"

James gave him a wry smile. "As ready as I'm ever likely to be, sir."

The Kirk's voice. "Mr. Scott, are the coordinates laid in?"

"Aye, sir."

"Prepare to transport. Captain Ash, Sergeant James, good luck."

"Thank you, Captain Kirk. Oh, and Captain? I realize this may not be possible, but if it is, when all this is over, when you and your ship are safe, if there were some way you could let us know, I think we would both appreciate it."

"Of course. You have my word, if there's any possible way, we will."

"Thank you, sir."

"Mr. Scott, transport."

Together Kyle and Mr. Scott began to work the controls.

* * *

The shimmering lights coalesced into the dark ramshackled shed, and the ominous shape of the bomb. For one brief moment Ash doubted his sanity. Had the past few days actually happened, or were they some bizarre daydream? But a glance at Sergeant James put his mind to rest, for he saw the same momentary fear mirrored in his eyes. Recognizing their identical reactions, the sergeants lips pursed in a brief reassuring smile.

 

And that meant they had to get busy, quickly. Because Ash thought it was all to likely that Grylock had booby-trapped the bomb. It was his best explanation for why their return to Earth had not been blocked. Grylock was watching and waiting to have the last laugh when the bomb exploded, negating all Kirk's efforts, and giving Grylock his revenge.

And for that same reason Ash didn't dare say anything of his plans out loud. He just trusted that Sergeant James would understand.

"Did any of the men get a close look at that fuse?"

James shrugged. "Mully, maybe, sir. None of the rest of the lads, so far as I know."

That was a stroke of luck, Ash thought. Mully could be trusted to hold his tongue.

"Do you know what major Lackhurst said to me after Ken Machen was killed?" Ash said conversationally, pretending to study the bomb. "He said you could never depend on a bomb to act the way it's supposed to. You never know when one will go up. At least if this one does, it'll only take the liquid discharger. Much easier to replace than the steam sterilizer."

He saw the sergeant start to object. This was a type 17 fuse, and the proper procedure was the clock stopper and then the steam sterilizer. But then he caught himself and nodded agreement. Ash breathed a sigh of relief. The sergeant might or might not know what he was up to, but he was paying attention.

"Another good thing about the liquid defuser, while it's working we can stand someplace safe and I can have a smoke. I can use one by now."

There was dawning understanding on the sergeants face. "Aye sir. It was a piece of luck this bomb landed here, with nothing to be damaged if the bitch goes up. Like the one at the waterworks, when Major Francis got so... disturbed with us."

Ash smiled grimly, knowing now the sergeant had figured it out. He remembered the waterworks bomb as well as the sergeant. The casing had cracked on impact, and rather than defuse it by the book, Ash and the DOBD had simply pulled the fuse casing from the remains, and Ash and the sergeant had exploded the fuse on the site.

And that's what Ash meant to do now. But since this fuse was still in an intact bomb, that meant exploding the entire thing.

"Your memory is excellent, Sergeant. Get everything that we need."

"Aye, sir."

It was a matter of moments until the Sergeant returned. "You got this yourself?" Meaning "No one saw what you were getting, I hope."

"Trust me, sir. And I told the lads this one looked a might touchy, and they should keep their heads down." he added.

Ash nodded as he worked. They set up the liquid discharger, a simple apparatus of glass tubes and rubber hosing, as though it were going to actually be used. But as they hid the bomb with their bodies, they packed blocks of explosive around the fuse casing. The sergeant struck a match and lit it.

"We'd best be going now, sir."

"That's an understatement, Sergeant." Ash agreed . They made their way out as fast as Ash's crippled leg would allow.

"That tree over there should be safe." Ash said. It looked miles away. Time seemed to crawl as Ash, helped by the sergeant, limped towards safety.

"Sir, I think we need to hop it." the sergeant exclaimed, an agony of concern in his voice.

"I am hoping it." Ash gritted between his teeth, and the sergeant winced at the unintended phrasing. "You should run ahead of me. No sense us both getting killed."

"Not without you, sir."

"That's an order."

"No sir."

"That's insubordination, sergeant."

"You can put me up on charges later, sir." The sergeant growled. "Come on, sir." Pushed to the limit, he finally grabbed Ash by the arm and half dragged, half carried him forward.

And then the blast of the bomb took them from behind.

* * *

Sapper Gordon Mully was the first to react when the shock of the explosion hit. In a frenzy of horror, half sobbing, he ran from the safety point. The sergeant was far more of a father figure to him than his own, drunken, mostly absent father had been, and as to Ash, he was his commanding officer, and his loyalty to him was absolute. The thought of losing them both at once was unbearable.

 

The rest of the men followed him as he dashed around the corner of the building they had sheltered behind.

And there they found the sergeant and captain pulling each other up from the ground, laughing. Mully even saw them exchange the same formal triumphant handshake they normally reserved for when they had successfully detonated a defused bomb in the marshes.

* * *

Up in the Enterprise, there had been a gasp of collective horror when the explosion had hit. Dust and debris obscured both the visuals and the sensor readings. It seemed like an eternity until they were able to see the two men, alive and well, surrounded by a group of other uniformed men.

 

Ensign Chekov let out a cheer. "They're alright sir!"

"Yes, Ensign, I think we can all see that ourselves." Kirk said, relief flooding him.

But before they had time to enjoy the relief, the ship lurched as though it had struck something.

"Cheaters! Cheaters!" The petulant voice of Grylock, raised to a shriek, filled the bridge.

"Sir!" Mr. Sulu gasped. "Our course has been changed! We're heading directly towards the Sun!"

"You think your so smart, I'll show you!" Grylock screamed.

"Hard astern" Kirk snapped. The ship veered.

"Sir! We're coming around on the sun again!"

"I'll burn you up!" Grylock screeched. "Burn! Burn!"

"Is there any physical object to lock the phasers on?"

"Negative, Captain."

"Hard astern again, and take evasive action."

The ship slammed backwards again.

"Sir!" It was Mr. Scott's voice of the intercom. "The engines canna' take this much longer." The bridge was filled now with the clamor of warning klaxons.

"The hull can't take much more of it either, Captain!" Mr. Sulu added.

"As long as we can, people." Kirk growled.

"Die! Die! Die!" Grylock cackled.

"I didn't think I was going to die at the hands of some psycho with dialog out of a grade B vid." Sulu grumbled, hands frantically flying over the consol.

The fiery image of the Sun centered in the viewscreen again. Closer now, far to close.

"Hull temperature climbing dangerously" Spock announced grimly.

"Hard astern again."

Again the ship slammed backwards.

"It's no good, sir, we're almost right back where we started."

Then, suddenly, another voice broke into the din. "Mother! Father! I found them!"

"Trelane?" Kirk gasped.

"What are you doing here, baby?" Grylock snarled.

"Let go of them, Grylock." Trelane cried. There was another slam to the ship.

"Hull pressure is reaching dangerous levels, Captain. It's as though we're being grabbed and pulled in two directions simultaneously." Spock called.

"Hurry up! I can't hold on much longer!" Trelane's voice gasped.

"We can't sustain this much longer. The hull will rupture."

"Grylock. Let go now." A different voice, older, commanding.

There was a final wrenching shudder, then suddenly they were free. The klaxon's cut off.

"Damage report, Lt. Uhura?"

"No serious injuries reported. Minor damage to the hull, nothing serious." Uhura reported in relief.

"Captain, I think we have company." Spock said quietly.

There were two glowing blobs of light on the bridge, one bigger, one smaller.

"Captain Kirk." A feminine voice this time. "I'm sorry my son's former friend caused you this trouble."

"Madam. Thank you for your very timely rescue." Kirk said gallantly.

"I'm sorry I had to grab your ship, Captain." Trelane's voice this time, but unlike any other time they had heard it, he sounded contrite. "He was trying to throw you into the sun."

"There was no serious harm done to the ship." Kirk reassured him.

"Captain Kirk." Trelane's mother put in, "We owe you a debt of thanks. We had suspected for some time that Grylock was tampering with the past, in contravention of our strictest laws, but we had no proof until we caught him here. Now we can make sure he is properly taken care of. Maybe helped, but at the very least confined so he can never be a threat again."

"We appreciate that, ma'm" Kirk said gratefully.

"We'll restore you to your own time and the place Grylock took you from. You have nothing left on your ship that's out of time, except this." There was a "clink", and a comb fell out of thin air onto the deck.

"One of our guests must have left it behind."

"I can return it to it's proper place." Trelane's mother assured him.

"Can you include something with it?" Kirk asked. "I promised to let them know if we survived."

"That can be arranged. As long as the message says nothing about the manner of your deliverance."

Kirk nodded. "I understand."

"And now, Captain, my son has something to say to you. Trelane?"

The smaller blob of light shimmered, and condensed into the stocky form of the Squire of Gothos. Instead of the peacock-like self assurance they had known before, however, this was a Trelane who seemed embarrassed, even humble. He hung his head and looked down at the deck.

"Trelane!" his mother said again, more sharply.

"I'm very sorry for being mean the first time I met you, and for scaring you." Trelane mumbled. "It was wrong of me to bully you just 'cause I'm stronger."

Kirk was taken aback. "Thank you, Trelane." He said as graciously as he could muster. "I'm sure we all appreciate that."

"Trelane had been spending far to much of his time with Grylock." His mother said. "We didn't appreciate what a bad influence he was until the incident with your ship. It has taken quite some time to undo the damage that he caused."

"I'm glad that you've been able to... take care of the situation."

"Children are a great worry." Trelane's mother sighed. "If you have any of your own, I'm sure you understand. However, that's enough of this. If you will prepare a message, I will return this misplaced item."

It took only moments for a suitable message to be prepared, and then Trelane's mother was gone from the bridge.

Trelane remained. "Captain Kirk?"

"Yes, Trelane?"

Trelane scuffed the deck with the toe of his boot. "I was just wondering. If I promised to be good, and not mean or scary, could we play together again some time?"

For a moment Kirk just stared. Then he gathered himself together. "Well, if your parents say it's alright, and if we can make some reasonable rules that you promise to obey, then I suppose we could. Have your mother and father speak to me about it."

Trelane looked up, joy written all over his face. "Yes! I promise I'll be good! Thank you, Captain!" And then he was gone.

"Captain." Mr. Sulu said. "Our location and the chronometer reading correspond to where and when we were at the point we encountered Grylock."

"It seems Trelane's mother keeps her word." Spock said.

"Indeed so, Mr. Spock. So that leaves us with only one disagreeable task before us."

"What's that, Captain?"

"Finding some way to explain all this in the Quarterly Reports." Kirk sighed. There was a spate of laughter around the bridge. "All right people, let's get back to business."

* * *

The reports took the rest of the day, just as Kirk had feared, but eventually they were done, signed, copied, and passed on to Lt. Uhura to send. Captain Kirk took himself and Mr. Spock off duty, and left the ship to Lt. Leslie as the day shift turned into night. He and Spock boarded the lift together.

 

"Well, this has been an interesting one for the records." Kirk said, yawning.

"Indeed, Captain. But a most satisfactory resolution. There is only one thing I do not understand."

"What's that, Mr. Spock?"

"Why you agreed to Trelane's request. It seems as though it could be dangerous."

Kirk shrugged. "I could say something about the logic of making such powerful beings as Trelane and his parent's happy."

"True, that is logical."

"But you don't believe that was my motive?"

Spock shook his head. "No, sir."

Kirk sighed. "Then I have to admit that it's something of a compliment to know that despite my age, a little boy still thinks it would be fun to knock on my door and ask if I can come out and play."

"Ah. Middle aged crisis." Spock said wisely.

Kirk was just about to object, when the look in Spock's eye told him that he'd been caught by one of his first officer's deadpan jokes, jokes that he would never admit he made. He simply grinned. "You may be right, Mr. Spock. Good night, and I'll see you in the morning."

* * *

Gordon Mully was puzzled. Something did not add up. He was certain that he had seen a 17 on that bomb's fuse, not a 50, but the sergeant had brought the liquid defuser, not the clockstopper. Mully had thought he must have been wrong, but then the bomb had exploded, almost as if the wrong procedure had been used on it. Yet, if that were the case, both the sergeant and the captain would have had to have made the same mistake, and he couldn't imagine either of them making a mistake so basic. So if something had been done, it had been done deliberately. But why? At least there would be no trouble with the Major over it, everyone knew that the Captain and Major Rogers were close friends, so that was alright. He shook his head. It was to much for a simple Sapper to worry about. If Captain Ash and Sergeant James were both in agreement with whatever had happened, then Mully was too.

 


	8. Epilogue

In the dark, smoky recesses of the White Hart pub, Captain Ash carefully put the two pints that he was carrying down on the small table, and lowered himself into a seat opposite Sergeant James. It was unusual to see an officer and a non-com drinking together, but not completely unheard of, especially when they were known to have served together for a long time, and to have had a close call, as Ash and James had that day.

 

"You didn't have to do that, sir" James said, indicating the mug Ash had set before him. He already had a pint, though it was almost empty now.

"My pleasure, Sergeant. After all, you bought for me down at my Aunt's."

The sergeant nodded, remembering his trip during Ash's convalescence. "How did things go with Major Rogers?" he asked, concern in his voice.

"Oh fine." Ash dragged deeply on his cigarette. "He was properly sarcastic, reminded me we were supposed to defuse the bomb without exploding it. Then he waxed eloquent in his pleasure that we were both still alive." He was a little bitter, Ivor was a good friend and Ash didn't like deceiving him. Still, it was certainly out of the question to tell him the truth. "Since you have competently backed me up that the fuse was a 50 and that proper procedure was followed through, and no one has contradicted us, it's all been put down to an old bomb just not acting the way it was supposed to. As long as Mully never says anything about that fuse..."

"He'll not. He's a canny lad, he knows that something was amiss, but he'll not say anything to give us away, not even to Norma, not about something like this."

Ash nodded in agreement. "That's what I thought. Well, it's over, then. For us at least. I only wish I knew how things worked out for..." He glanced up.

The sergeant smiled. "Well now, as to that, sir." He reached in his uniform pocket, and pulled something out. His comb, Ash saw. "I realized after the bomb went up that I'd left this behind up there. It was out where we could both use it, not with the rest of my kit, so I must have missed packing it up, like. But when I got back to my quarters, it was on my bunk." He laid the comb on the table, and pulled out a slip of paper. "This was with it."

Ash looked at the paper. In a firm masculine hand was written "Situation resolved satisfactorily." It was signed "J. Kirk."

Ash exhaled a long sigh, releasing tension he hadn't even known he'd been holding. "I'm glad of that. And I'm glad they managed to let us know. If we hadn't heard, I'd have always been looking over my shoulder to see if that lunatic was going to show up again some day."

"Aye. I know what you mean."

"Well that really does mean it's over, then. Nothing left for us to do but keep history straight and have children."

The sergeant chuckled wryly. "That's easy for you to say, sir. Having the lady all picked out and all. But for me..." He shrugged.

Ash looked at him sideways. "What about your supply sergeant, then, that you've been walking out with?"

The sergeant stared at him in frank amazement, and Ash felt a moment of triumph at shaking the normally unflappable NCO. "Fancy you knowing about that, sir!"

"It's not just sergeants who have their ways of knowing things, you know." Ash said, grinning.

James pursed his lips. "Mully, I suppose. Though I'd not have thought he'd say anything to you."

"Oh, not to me. But Norma tells her mother every bit of interesting gossip."

"And Mrs. Baker tells the world. Aye."

The two men laughed quietly together, drinking their beer.

"So what's her name, then?" Ash pressed.

"Sergeant Gilroy." James said. Then his voice softened. "Rosy. I didn't think I'd really have enough to offer her to make it anything serious, but..." He trailed off.

"Do I get to meet her? It only seems fair."

"We're supposed to be going to the pictures Saturday. I'll bring her round here first."

Ash finished his pint, put the mug down, and stubbed out the remains of his cigarette. "I'll be looking forward to it." He slowly stood up, picking up his cane. "I'd best be getting back to the Baker's. I'm supposed to call Susie. She wants to talk about arrangements for the wedding."

James drained the last of the pint Ash had bought him. "I should be going, too." They made their way to the door, the sergeant, as always, slightly behind and to the side, slowing his pace to Ash's.

Outside they paused to look up at the sky.

"Odd to think of being remembered by people out there and 300 years from now." Ash murmured.

"Aye. It is that."

Then they took their separate ways.

* * *

Mr. Scott looked around the rec. room. Most of the off-duty crew were finding some way to celebrate their survival against all odds, but he didn't feel like joining in the general revelry.

 

It was odd. He had found a new member of his family, known him for so short a time, and now he was gone. As if he were dead. No, scratch that. He was dead. Three hundred years dead, too, but yesterday he had been alive. And now he was gone. Scott wished they'd had more time to get to know one another.

He thought Mr. Kyle might understand his sense of loss, but he'd seen Kyle and Janice Rand together earlier, and they had looked very much as if they wanted to be left alone. Well, that was good. Scott had seen those two coming together for some time now, and he approved. But it left him without anyone to commiserate with. No one to hold a wake with.

And, he realized, that's what he wanted to do. When someone in your family died, you held a wake, to celebrate their life and mourn their death. Scott wanted to hold a wake.

For awhile he sat and thought, staring at the glass of scotch in his hands. Then, reaching a decision, he finished it in a gulp and made his way to the door.

He reached his own cabin, but paused only long enough to gather up two bottles and two glasses, then headed out again.

* * *

For the second night in a row, Mr. Spock found himself hearing the unexpected sound of his door chime. Last night it had been his equally unexpected human great-something grandfather. Tonight, of course, that wasn't possible. Tonight Ash was 300 years gone.

 

"Come." He called, and the door opened. Once again, if he had permitted himself the emotion, he would have been startled to see who his visitor was.

"Mr. Scott. This is unexpected." An unconscious echo of his words to Ash the previous night.

Mr. Scott carefully put two bottles down on Spock's table.

"We've each lost a family member today." Scott said. "I thought you might like to join me in having a wake. Vulcans put a great deal of stock in family, they say."

"But not in mourning the dead." Spock felt compelled to point out.

"Aye. I know that. That'd be for the human half."

Mr. Spock made a small, amused noise that in a human would have been equivalent to a deep laugh. He tended to forget, or overlook, that Mr. Scott had known him as long as Kirk had, and almost as well.

"Very well, Mr. Scott." He sat down at the table and motioned the engineer into the other chair. "What did you bring?"

Mr. Scott grinned and held up the first bottle. "Well for a good Scot's wake, there's nothing more proper than whiskey. I shared my best with Sergeant James the other night, and I don't regret it, so this'll have to do." Then he indicated the other bottle. "But I know that ethanol doesn't sit well with Vulcan stomachs, so I brought something that might do you better." He held it out to Spock. "Romulan ale."

For a moment Spock hesitated, then shook his head. "I am only half Vulcan, Mr. Scott. My metabolism can handle the whiskey, and it seems more appropriate." Tomorrow he would be reconsider the logic of that decision, but tonight he would honor the other half of his ancestry.


End file.
